There came a point when I stopped
believing I would find
happiness, I thought
happiness was an impossible dream
people chase like a Carrot
dangling from a string,
that at best I’d make do
with simply being
entertained in between the rest
of the moments of living.
These moments, expanses
of nothingness, bleak,
filled with human placeholders
for a myth I laid to rest,
because all my heart needs is to beat,
were enough to convince me
that a muscle unchallenged is weak.
In stagnant air, each footstep is
a chore, but you came
like a breath of warm wind
on the back of my sunburnt neck,
a gentle push,
just what I needed to put
one foot in front of the other,
to reach the Carrot.
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