Treadmill.

Poem thing I made, hope ya’ll like it!

Treadmill. By T.T. Welch.

*Can I run for eternity? How stubborn can I be? Do I dare slow; do I dare falter? At every roadblock must I shatter? At every disaster must I weep? Beyond the horizon my destination awaits, but until I arrive my indomitability must keep.

But if I could slow and forget it all, if my mind could calm and allow me release, would my stomach keep turning? Would my heart keep breaking?

In every moment I am allowed peace, I like to wonder what the trees would tell me if they could speak. Would their beauty translate into comfort? Would their age indicate infinite wisdom?

Down highways, through farmlands and lonely mountains. Always alone, but away from it all. If the grass were alive I’d rest upon it, accepting its warm, prickly hugs. Are the deer tortured by their minds? Or the vicious bear? Down to the tiniest prey? Do the stars watch me from up above? Do they pity or do they mock? Do they pray for my aid, or do they cheer for my downfall? Can I run. Can I run, please?

If I run will every corner I turn be as sharp as the last? Will its deathly points draw blood? Don’t blow it. I cannot blow it. What are cowards?

Am I a coward if I run? Am I weak if I beg for ease? Spinning. Buzzing. Twisting. Crumbling. Collapsing. Spinning. Buzzing. Twisting. Crumbling. Collapsing. Spinning. Buzzing. Twisting. Crumbling. Collapsing.

Am I just living on a treadmill? If so, how do I turn it off?*

If you read, thank you for your time!