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Running

 The most I could do was run
The least I could do was run
The only thing I do well is run.

Ever since she shouted at me to run
With a machete hanging over her head,
The only thing I've done since then was run,

Even when I met the man,
Who promised to help me stop running
I ran
Even with arms stretched out, and tears streaming down his face,
I ran,
Because He was too good to be true,
Like a fairy-tale
But fairy tales do not exist,

So I’m running,
With fear for the one with the machete
And unbelief from the one who promised me Heaven.







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