The Run

You forget all your pain

And bask in a moment of fame, 

The thrill of rush is such, 

There is no one to judge. 

The pounding of words in your head,

Hopelessness they shed,

They give you power to run, 

The battle currently won.

 

The sun fire ever so bright, 

But encourages you to fight.

It thinks it has you,

But burning heart anew!

 

Before your legs turn into sludge,

You trudge, and you trudge, and you trudge.

And this is when you realised,

The war was just idealised. 

The emotions of the past

Have finally left at last, 

Good only for the pounding

The pounding of words in your head.