Strides

 

I run from the setting sun
and hide in the cerebral night.
It will try again tomorrow
to catch me in the light.

Until then, though, I’m fine,
and I’ll pretend I have no foe.
The darkness is a haven,
lighted by familiar glow.

When the morning comes
and I’m chased by beams of terror,
I’ll look upon my long shadow
and ponder my strides of error.

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