Courir, mourir.

Morte.

*

Running and living,

Stopping and dying,

There is no fighting.

.

No one trenscends

We can only flee,

Run far away,

As far as possible.

.

No one ascends

No matter how fast,

Run far away,

He* always catches up.

.

An iron grip,

Never letting go,

Fingers so cold

It rips even your soul.

.

Faster, farther,

It’s the only way

Longer, harder,

To live. Running always.

.

Running and living,

Stopping and dying,

There is no fighting.


Yup. A jolly story is it not?

*Of course. Who doesn’t know Death is a he?

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