The Edge

This road feels familiar.

I find myself

standing in it again,

thinking about things

that never did me any good.

I used to chase.

I thought that if I ran hard enough,

you all would turn back.

All I got

were scraped knees

and dirt on my hands.

Now I’m here,

still carrying those old scrapes,

at the edge of this dirt road,

tiring myself out

because I’ve been standing for too long,

waiting for

at least one of you

to stop.