Unable to finish the race, I pull my punches. Knowing I get so close but never able to finish.
90% done, my legs start bleeding, soon I’m no longer able to run. Hands bleeding, I can’t cut the air in front of me. Knees bleeding from kneeling on the pain of my past.
Eyes fixed on the finish line and start crawling. My competitors running past me, trampling me, pushing my body as I drag my skin across this track, slowly ripping open my chest.
Hands plunged into the ground, as it now hampers my progress. I stop to breathe as I see who I once was pass me by. Stopping by me to watch me as I struggle to pull myself from where I am imprinted in the ground.
He walks on, not looking back. I look forward as the crowds form a stampede and bury my future. I still pull my body out of this hole, hoping one day to regain strength in my legs to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.
I started this race running, with my heart worn upon my sleeves, such that the birds may peck upon it. My heart slowly gives, lungs bleeding as an escape for my heart. I cry out, begging for forgiveness.
I drag myself again, using all the strength I have left, but it doesn’t help. I stagger in one position and move forth not. I do so alone, in pain, crying, but everyone walks, runs, jogs past me as if I mean nothing. But I don’t blame them, I mean nothing.
So I stop fighting at this point. I’ll give up and hopefully die because that escape would finally bring a smile, finishing my race early.