I had always run like a storm

crackling with anger

fueled by thundering defiance at the world

a five-kilometer point to be hammered home.

I had always run like an engine

anxiety the stuttering starter

frustration condensing and igniting each step

with mechanical, discontent purpose.

I hadn't expected it,

when that final stretch of that final race

broke the thunderheads on a clear sky

and melted all the engine's parts

into a tide of pure joy.

This poem is about: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741