I tend to run when things get comfortable.
Just because I know two humans are rarely ever compatible.
When things appear too good to be true,
They usually are and the person getting burned is normally just you.
Lay your heart out, it gets stomped on and shattered,
Leaves you physically worn and emotionally tattered.
What am I doing running, when it doesn't feel right,
What am I doing staying, when my feet are always ready to be in flight.
One minute happy, the next consumed with fret,
Don't know how bad this could possibly get.
Practice what you preach, but its something I can't grasp,
It's one of those nearly impossible tasks.
Fading from the sunlight, too soft for the night,
Stuck in the middle of this mind vs heart fight.
Distance from my writing, distance from you,
But running is all I've ever learned to do.