The Race

Step by step, I move only forward, Hands jerking at my ankles trying to pull me back. I look ahead. So many steps stand in front of me, too many to count, too many to see. But I see them. I see them, and I see faint traces of the people I used to know, and I see what a family is supposed to be - yet nothing is what it seems. So I avoid the holes in the road, taking a few bumps instead. I am shaken but unscathed. Why do people insist on trying to hold me back? I am the wind, unseen but powerful. While no one takes notice now, they will remember me later. They will remember when they need me, they will remember when I have finally reversed the damage they have done - and I will not be there to hear it. Words have already been spoken, feelings already decided; I have been lost to those around me, but I have found myself. My blinders are in place, The race ready to begin, And I wait. Ready. Set. Go. They take off. I remain. One minute. Two minutes. Three - then I take off. Speeding through the others, determined to win this race against time. As I outdo the last one in front of me; I find myself on the finish line as I yank on the reins; I just want out. Away, away, away. But I have to wait. Just a few more flashes. Just a few more arguments. Then I'll be done. Done and gone forever. A grain of sand lost on a beach, swept away into the very wind of the creation, remembered only by the traces it left behind.