RunningThey're coming;That's all I ever knew.The demons of my past,All coming back anew.They tug at my hair,At my clothes and my arms."You've been running too long!""Yes, I have been running,But I can keep running like an old song!""No you can't," they sneer.I'm on the edge of a fence,Far too nearTo the ground.Time passes, I ignore the smoke of demons.Dreaming, I am visited by the head demon himself;Standing tall and fear-instilling, he glares.The voice, much like drums, booms and shakes the air itself."The time has come," the King blares,And craters fizzle beneath us."No! Wait! I'm done!" I scream."If that's so, prove it." Mist appears out of the craters,The floor leaves, the Demon King wisps away.My eyes snap open, endless sunshine glaring through my window.I still hear the Demon King's voice in my head,"Prove it, prove it."Time to learn now.
SerenityYou may not hear thisSmall bit of running water,However, it continuesTo make its presence known.It silently slices through the land sharper than any knife.Though it may not be deep,It does leave behind theLingering odor of old, wet clay.Now let me warn you:If you decide to dip a toeIn this dark, crystal-clear water,You’ll receive quite the shock,And if you sit on the damp bank,Be sure to bring something to settle down on.Don’t focus too much on the water itself.If you do, you’ll miss out on theCool breeze singing through the nearby trees.If you don’t look at the bigger picture,You’ll miss out on the endlessSea of emerald-green grassWith flecks of rust waving,First in greeting, then in a forlorn farewell.Try as it may, the sun may try to make your backAs warm as a long-lost lover’s embrace, butThe heartless, cold ground won’t hesitateTo greedily leech it away.