When younger, I can remember,
Playing outside in the summer.
Climbing trees, running through the hose,
Fighting imaginary foes.
Pure innocense that would be lost,
I was trying not to get caught,
I was running with the wind.
Years later, my rebellious soul began to unfurl.
I figured life out, and lived in my own little world.
Causing my own little problems to argue and fight,
Not knowing, or even caring, which was the right side.
Fighting anyone and everyone without reason,
With my wall built high, the world I tried to shun.
I was running against the wind.
Now I’m here wondering,
And I can’t stop thinking.
A realization of what I’ve done,
I have taken care of only one.
Now I’m here on my own,
Trying to find a place to call home.
I am running from the wind.
* One of my older poems written many years ago.
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