The Runner

Never was she satisfied, never was she far enough away

Running from the darkness, the place broken inside

She ran through forests, up the mountain side

Pounding feet to pavement, her heartbeat ever still

Sometimes she'd stop and wonder, how far it was going to take

To run away from her demons, the one's she did not make

Home was not a refuge from the anguish that she carried

Love was illusive, not something she really sought, especially to be married

She ran off the tears, never understood their meaning

Running, running, running, lost in fearless dreaming

Behind her ribbons, her unattended sprints

Was a little girl, wanting to be seen for all that she did well

At some point she gave up, for it came to her attention, that being good itself was her made up hell

Good was expected, not rewarded or ever praised, just the way she was to be, good. Good as day.

Life was not working for her so she ran another path, one that became destructive, filled with inner wrath

She never hurt anyone, just her little self, running, running, running blind on inner stealth

She lived on next to nothing, except her morning tea, until she was so little, no one knew who to see

The runner's tears fell on her pillow at night when she lost her will

She didn't know where they came from, until she was near her final hill

The finish line she was nearing, although arbitrary indeed

The runner lost herself and the question came to speed

Could she retrace her steps and find the place that made her need to flee

Or should she leave it for the runner-up to keep them company?