Running Till Oblivion
Plod, plod,
One foot ahead of the other,
A million times over,
Until I arrive at the place I sought.
The wind is blowing harsh.
My eyes spill their water,
And make me cry,
To the song the wind is howling in my ears.
The wind blows all tears the same,
And though they hang on,
To the precipice,
They are still only tears, shed for no one.
I step up the pace.
The faster moving through space,
Seals the deal for the tears,
And they plummet violently,
And splatter onto the tarmac,
Spilling their guts over the road.
Was it worth all this, to run;
Plodding, howling, weeping. Lashing water off my face.
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