When he finally stopped running
He turned swiftly about face
He realized that nobody any longer gave chase
He had outran all of the people, good and bad
He had ran away from everything
What now filled his visual view
Was a world left cold, dark, and gray
For in his haste to escape his demons
He left parts of himself lying about the ground
Where did all the years go, the happy times
What became of those he had loved and lost
Does it matter still what became of the mess he made
And the ugly facade he kept as he sped
Out of breath and colder still, he wept at the world
The things that had made him a man, stole his inner child
What is the present, but just a moment to recapture it all
To grasp what time is left on the immortal clock
Twisting it back into some recognizable fate
With the minutes that are left, becoming all that can be found
And giving to the next one all that he has learned
The life he lead in such haste wizened him even as it sapped his youth
Mistakes made while the pie was still hot
Looking clearly as he caught his breath
He swore not to repeat his infinite tragedy
With resounding wind roaring in his face
He turned back affront and walked with ease
Whatever he was sure to find there amidst the wind
Had to be much sweeter than what he left behind
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