No rhymes. No rhythm. Just feeling.

I hid away as if being chased.
My thoughts skidded to a halt.
I turned to all sides,
finding a way to revert.
Stayed out of that path,
but still tripped over the roots.
The overgrowth crept to me,
I was as helpless as a fool.

Upon seeing that word, I cringe.
Upon thinking that thought, I sleep.
When I’m reminded by then, I run.

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