my fable
When I was a kid,
I was just trained to run within the dotted line like a hare
But I've always been a tortoise really.
Seconds, hours, days, years kept passing
Dotted lines vanished
But I was still expected to run
Didn't know where to turn.
Who would've thought it'll haunt me everywhere,
Too many places to run at the same time,
But a single breather feels like a decade behind.
They say you need to keep up to be visible.
I keep trying to try harder.
It's tiring, my mind says.
Getting slower Day by day
Don't care to win or lose, if I may
Ask you to tell me
Where the finishing line is,
they say,
They still don't know when this race ends.
It's funny how they still keep going
Well, my feet won't stop running either
But hold On! One second.
Do I need to find the finishing line?
Do I crave to climb this incline?
I urge myself to decline.
The gnawing NO knows
It's pleads to get out
My sight narrowing, the harrowing enclose.
I halt.
I saw a grass field where I lay.
Give myself a day, or a month
Whatever I need to stay steady and sane, I say.
Anyways, The race is here to stay
I will (fin)ish it in my own time and way.