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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2009481

Ups and downs

I run the forest unshod over
massaging roots and
tenderizing stumps.

The wind
entices me with a breeze from behind
impedes me with a gust from the front.

A branch swings into me
tickling me with twigs
bashing me on the nose.
I fall.

I look up to find my chaser
breathing joy unto me
suffocating me in a cloud of darkness.

I wake up and keep on running.
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