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You do these things just to take away the pain,
but it always ends up feeling the same.
And you’ve become so high-strung, trying to keep the delicate balance…
(Don’t slow down; don’t stop; don’t feel, just dance.)
Distractions come and go—they leave you burning out and painfully slow.
You move through each day with nothing profound to even think or say.
Sometimes it’s the bottle. Sometimes it’s the gym. Sometimes it’s a man.
(But none of it will ever be him.)
So on you drudge, going round and round,
feet never even skimming the ground.
Running from the pain yet held hostage all the same.
You’ve been running so long; the days go by in an incessant blur.
How long has it been?
(You aren’t even sure.)
You try to slow down. When things stop spinning, your vision becomes clear.
You finally see what you’ve been doing for all these years.
You feel shattered by the loss of time.
You want to feel; you want to get through this.
(But it’s killing you to even try.)