Runner’s World

When running up
to a finish line
you will feel 
in your chest

You must decide then
whether to ignore them
or stop to draw them forth
to either die there
or recover and finish

or even win

No choice is wrong

but what happens
to your swords

after you choose

That’s a puzzle
with its own sword hanging over it

Leave them in 
and push through and perhaps
you die or turn cold
and twisted in pain

Pull them out and contaminate all
with your blood as you fail
or finish or win
without them

but leave them behind
so others flay themselves
as they approach you

standing there
laurel-decked and
whistling from
all your holes

Aftermath is where
right and wrong
come out to play

is everything
in this race

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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