Run, Run, Run Poem by Achim Wollscheid

We’re at seams
Threads and ending things
We know it’s just the world
But we know its hurtful ways
We hold each other’s hands
And their faces grow distressed
They all scoff at us
Unmoved and merciless
We’re fond, you and I
As we have been for long
And we travel this distance
‘Cause our yearning has grown strong
When we’re lost from the crowd
We’d like to fumble and feel
Our hands on one another
To sustain what is real
It frets away at our nerves
The very thought of our isolation
But we’ll commence the corresponding path
Into new worlds of adulation