Perhaps one day, I won't want to reach out for an escape,
Instead I'll face the music, I hope it's soothing for my sake.
This running is redundant, you see I'm running in small circles
Not heading in any direction, less speedily than a dying turtle.
Self destruction, my dear, what ever your chosen form may be
Has a comforting fuzziness to it, it's addiction is the enemy.
It feels good, because it's bad, what a confusing, musing mess
I decided not to repeat this mistake... alas I did!, I confess.
Pass me that exit again, let me run away some more
This out of focus life has become what I end up waking for.
This reality is beautiful, am I just wasting all my time?
Some days I say 'the hell with it, this life is none but mine'.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez