Runner

He runs, not to win, But to escape the silence that haunts him, A hum that's too loud On the path that no one knows about. He runs and goes Without a globe. People he left, they all mourn. Yet still he goes through breaking dawn, Running from the shadows that dwelled his lawn. The line of time that cut his throat, The same ones whom he loved the most. What he thought was the candle of birth Was a flame to burn his hut, A promise wrapped in silent lies, A dawn that dimmed in vacant skies. He runs and runs To the morning’s face, A light that felt like grace. He fixed his path, A path unknown. He runs through that path To unveil the throne, A throne that he once met, A throne that loved him, but he never cared. That path gets filled with echoes, Echoes from the throne. It calls him, It summons him— And though he's scared, he runs towards it, Through smoke and ashes, Through endless nights. His eyes are fixed, And so he runs with all his might.