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what running means

I would love love love to get back to where I was.
I fought fought fought to be the best me I could.
I ran ran ran through miles of invisible pain.
I stopped because it was controlling my brain.
 
Each step of all those miles – tracks laid deeply –
has to support a mindset able to care for sick people.
Each step, when taken with intention, reignites self-care.
No longer enough to run these tracks in cyclical despair.
 
These tracks, though, are faulty, laid by broken hands.
Forgive me.
Underneath is the soggy terrain, of a childhood
soaked in alcohol, war and pain.
 
I ran until my heart restarted itself, hypertrophied,
to hide old tissue inspired by desperate fantasies.
I ran until my mind went numb, diverting oxygen
to reignite my legs, allowing my world to feel fun.
 
I ran until your health told me I was done,
until dreaming of running supplanted most doldrums.
My organs keep on going as if always running.
Metabolism amped as if another marathon coming.
 
I miss miss miss the daily injection of confidence.
But to know know know how I now prioritize my cognition,
to accompany accompany accompany as a near physician with pride.
Unregretfully, running was escape, an addiction in disguise.

Autres oeuvres par Juan Michael...



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