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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1331818
About feeling tired, again, and wondering who I am and what it's all about essentially.
I trail memory like blood behind me,
haunt of unknown uncounted days,
and the one I chase moves on ahead.
His pace is too fast and his tracks
erased as the world falls down, a blizzard.
Blinded by it, limping under my load,
a life unsaid and swallowed words,
I push on, through today
Into the whispering emptiness.
Hoping that one day he will tire.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1331818-Ahead-of-myself