Sprint (an acrostic poem)

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Scurrying thoughts running crazy inside his head

Put him on his mental treadmill, trying to exercise them away

Reaching an exhaustion level that would allow him to fall unconscious

It sometimes worked, but tonight the ideas and thoughts were too fast

Not that he gave up dashing after them, but waking hours passed slowly

That’s what made the alarm the next morning such a rude starting pistol for the new day

Shout (an acrostic poem)

Standing firm in what he knew he needed to do, oblivious of physical demands

He loudly proclaimed his message of doom to all those that would hear

Obviously ignoring to the snickers and rude comments of the passers-by

Unable to understand why his message did not find fertile soil

The stain on his trousers spoke louder.

 

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