Who cares.

I think I've been wrong,
mistaken being weak with strong.
All the judgements & indignations,
yet taken no actions.
There's the sense of loss,
plus the rage & escapes.
But why am I still here?
Just to stand around?
Maybe I will be happy, by chance,
to help someone, anyone.
It's always been an excuse,
that "I felt deeply, & cared too much."


It's a wild hunt,
I am the prey.
Moments of my life
flash like a dream.
The beauties I see
give me reason to flee.
One more step,
then I can breath.
I hear the shouting
ferocious & near.
For a second I thought,
what do I have to fear?
But my legs won't slow,
my heart hums so smooth.
It's comically natural
when I'm running from you.