Motionless

Life is in a constant state of motion, though I challenge
myself to think otherwise.
Life is a labyrinth that and I’ve been running through, looking for a way out
in a thousand rushed, yet familiar ways.
I continue to search, I continue to not find, and I continue to move.
Sometimes I reminisce on the thousand footsteps long behind me,
yet I never question if any of them had any real direction in mind.
Though I am aware of these ineffective ways, I run from these never ending habits.
As I run, I ponder how this world that I run in, is just be a mindstate i've created,
In which I feel uneasily content.
Creating your own world
that’s an enjoyable facade,
but a bittersweet, terrifying  interior.
Though it is ironic, how I am running from change, while constantly in motion,
I can't help but feel untouched, tranquil.
For every step I take, there is a strange familiarity, that I don’t like.
Life is quick and consistent, yet I still feel uneasy in it.
For every inhale, an exhale.
or every sunset, a sunrise.
Because this world i've created, much like myself, is always in motion. It does not
care about the good or the bad, or how far I may have run, It just keeps turning.
A new day bringing a different form of the same.
And I hold my breath.
I am trying to stand still. Anybody will tell you that only comes when you are at peace with
yourself, in the world that you have created,
walking you through a slow field, finally walking.
Not running from anything, wondering
about why this couldn't be done while you were still living in THE REAL world:
This place could be calm, right?
You could make this place yours.






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