I am a tremendous front runner…always showing blazing speed right from the gate.  Out in front is where I belong. There is no kickback when you are in the clear. So, I battle hard to maintain my position. My head is down, my steps are fluid. Out of respect, the wind parts to let me pass. Politely I accept…in hopes that the offer will be made again. Next time it will be needed. But when? I have never been a good judge of distance. I am only bred to go fast, the rest…I leave up to my handlers.   A dangerous concession, regardless of the outcome. So I press on, the smell of fresh clover and damp moss
permeate my quivering nostrils. A brief respite before the true racing will begin. I think back to when I was real…chasing wayward butterflies…kissing the purple sky in a faraway meadow. What was once a burgeoning horizon are now only darkening memories from a former life that suddenly feels like it never actually existed. With what little light is left…
I sheepishly try to force a smile…but the lactic acid overflowing from my lungs stings my mouth until I agree to keep it shut. Punishment for clinging to my identity. Repeatedly,
I am asked to give more, and repeatedly my response is the same…
hesitant insurrection. There are never any allies… only accidental foes lying in wait. The surface that used to feel like a springboard, is now as thick as molasses. My legs that once danced with the breeze, now feel heavy and rigid…my machine like stride shortening
under the weight of expectation. The blur of my surroundings, I no longer recognize.
Clearly, I am far from home. Oh to be back amongst the quiet of my thoughts. The wind grumbles louder now…carrying the rumbles of those who stalk my tracks. There will be no gifts this time…I will have to earn what I am owed. Am I up to the challenge?  Eventually, all of us will be caught… but the finish line is looming…much brighter than I recall. Soon I will be home…on the lead again.

I am not unhappy…I am merely frustrated with undeserving people. Those that fit beneath my tiny paw…despite towering high above me. They think that they can buy me off with
counterfeit smiles and forged kindness. I scoff at the insinuation. My neediness is confined in a place that is to be determined later. At present, the room does not exist…but if there comes a time when there shall be an occupancy…rest assured…this address will contain a deadbolt lock and plenty of padding. The celestial stepmother will not arrive on her tippy toes…but rather on her well worn knees…humbled to be in the presence of a superior
being. Eyes forward, arms at her side… waiting…and waiting…and waiting. The scabs of her past will be leaking… but her providence is not long legs and a tight skirt….nor is her love a rehearsed speech and a hearty laugh. It is your destiny to be alone, only what I
conjure can sooth your uncertainty. Do not curse your rescuer…your will was my choice.
Listen with your heart…you know how her story goes. Do not shed a tear…she only exists within my prose.

And then she is appears. Unrefined in the manner of approach, but calculated in the
context of strategy. Tis true, that no one can gain influence without an attending audience. However, tunneling under a foundation instead of walking thru the front door will never result in access. Words fall on deaf ears when spoken with gravel on the tongue…good
intention cannot breathe when encapsulated by the grime that accumulates beneath your
finger nails. You can dig as fast as you want, but you will never win favor. I require my
offerings to be collected within the scope of most resplendent tradition. No need to scratch your head…I am gifted by a lack of faith. It is why your subterfuge is now
showing…a quick swipe reveals the trail of dirt that you bleed…from the filth where you have come the scars will now return. I am ever in control…still I am willing to concede that the next move is really yours. Come to me renewed…pristine and ready for my touch…dance within my boundaries…bandage up your foolish lust.

You are empty because she is sad…. irritable because she is troubled. You love yourself, therefore you feel for others. You question your motives because you trust no one. All that you keep inside, you make the rest throw away. You are capable of anything, yet
frightened by the possibility. Love floats all around, but have you seen the evil that we do? With influence comes opposition. That is why I refuse to open to the thought. My eyelids keep me safe…with darkness…I have my shield. Beware of the Trojan Horse that rides the light…grit your teeth and hold your ground…or acknowledge your reflection in the window and feel the wrath of her smile climbing in.