The Moving Masochist

How can I keep

doing this?

I don’t know

when to stop.

I stop,

but I keep going.

 

I’ve got to feel

the burning in my muscles

to know I’ve

worked hard.

I’ve got to hear

the cry in my stomach

to know

the energy I have spent.
I can only keep

running and running

and to stop

to know the portent

of my actions.

 

I fumble and stagger

to the finish line.

My sore muscles scream

while I smile foolishly

in victory.

I am proud.

I am triumphant.

I have made it

with great progress.

Of course, I shall rest,

but there is more to come.

 

Author's Note

This is the companion poem to "Fire," which was published prior to this. Check out "Fire" for a fuller description of how and why these two poems came about.

Reviews

[InsanityIsBeautiful]

Your work reminds me of myself. I enjoy reading your poems very much. Excellent work!

[E.V. Black]

Thank you! Your review makes me glow inside.