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I was born to run.

Only a year old, racing down the hallway
'til I bruised my knee;
but it's not like I remembered…
My mom told me

when I was ten-
it was then
I finally returned home
I was a runaway for thirteen days…
all on my own

I listened to her story- exhausted-
after returning home
I just had to run back
after realizing
that I hated to be alone

But I was born to run;
and as many years churned,
I forgot her story
and forgot
the lesson learned

I was twenty, and running after
a girl I thought I loved…
or maybe I just thought she loved me
I bruised more than just my knee

But I was born to run;
and now that I've run so long,
I don't know where I've come or
what I've been running from

I don't know whether I'm running toward
or whether I'm running away from something,
but it's probably neither or both
In my life I've learned…
things are never just black and white
So I'll just keep running…
with all my might

because I was born to run.
I just wonder if I'll ever stop
And I wonder if I'll ever feel the need to…
I think not.

But I hope so
I just know I'm tired of chasing
girls who once promised they'd run slow
I'm tired of running
from jobs and stations in life
that won't ever let me go

I'm tired of forgetting stories my momma told me
of what I've been
and where I'm from

But I'll probably just keep running-
although I'm so tired-
because I was born to run.