Sonnet: Running

Source: 1VibrantLife

The young man has been running from himself

With his eyes fastened on the empty shelf

He knows a trick or two to hide a few

But still not enough for him to subdue

Idly swimming in the air with no plan,

He does not see one to come grab his hand

Out of breath, he has quickly sucked the air

No hesitation leaves nothing to bear

Raw flesh of his burden is half rotten

Woe of the bygones is now forgotten

He hesitates a bit on where to pour,

A clear bourbon glass or the wounds too sore

In faltering manner, he clings on clips,

decayed and rusted from myriad drops

of sweat drenching his coast even today

The hanging clips break without a delay

The man leaves them without a fond adieu

His ego must have been much to outdo