I choose to run with the Lions
Vicious lions that wait for no one
They are intent on the hunt
They are ruthless if I don't keep up
They growl and are angry because I am slow
I tire so I need to take a break
Maybe I should not be running with this pack
Then I remember my own kind, the hyenas
They laugh with me and wait for me
But they pretend
They are greedy and plot my downfall
I keep up with them
But I am not heading in their direction
So we part ways
All this running hurts
I have only two feet and I am fragile
I break easy and I am light
Maybe I am in the wrong race
I see birds in the air and I wonder if I should not be flying
But I never did learn how to fly
Maybe running will make me a better bird
Labels: Failure, Poetry, Trying, Verse