Runnin Poem by Bragg Adocio

Runnin

I always catch myself chasing things I can't catch. But wasn't it I who said such a thing held no substance? That only dogs chase such foolish things like birds while their still flying, that only apes jump into rivers because they thought they saw the moon? And yet I always seem to catch myself chasing my tail, barking at the sky or all wet behind the ears. Serves me right I guess, for failing to evolve, for failing to sprout wings and fly, or a longer tail or spine. It serves me right, for not standing upright and growing a brain so I can build a ship to the moon.
Sometimes it feels like I'm so far behind. Maybe if I read the rule book I'd know that you have to run in a race, you have to get up and sprint for dear life, those who developed short stamina or shorter legs will get cut out in the shortest amount of time: survival of the fittest.
 Maybe I'm not fit to survive. Maybe extinction isn't too far off from eminent. Or maybe I just have to try harder. Then again, maybe I'm scared to try my best, though I don't know why, it's not like I have much to lose. Those who become extinct still have the pleasure of leaving a footprint in history.
Maybe that's what I'm running from, my history. My track record of trying and failing, I'm not the little engine that could, I haven't the confidence or the self esteem to keep standing back up like that, truthfully, I DONT think that I can. Gravity just feels too strong sometimes, and I get complacent. I mold into the ground below and, much like dying, become one with my surroundings, almost as low as I feel. Until the surviving species run right over me as If I'm just another part of the field.