A ceaseless clash of emotions
-am scared out of wits
A run, or is it a chase?
Why is it that I always run?
Or chase?
I know its out of fright
Fear of what?
I know not!
Fears, shocks, uncertainty
knocking at the doors-
each alternating, competing..
Still I hold on to a tag
On which is printed ‘Hope’
And there two arrows sprout
one pointing ahead
another behind
Behind me was a grave,
Ahead, a shrine
Yes. I must look forward
Never behind!

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