27 December 2012
My heart beats fast When thinking of your warm embrace. But the feeling does not last. There are others after your heart This all feels like a race.
What a terrible race this is, For I am not even competing. My heart grows weary at all attempts to win. Because I feel as if though all of this is a sin, My mind is conflicted of what is within.
I want to win this Race, And yet I am much happier sitting in the stands Watching as the race goes on and learning from others fatal mistakes.
The rush of winning is my strong desire, and yet the safety of sitting is my deepest comfort.
Opuss № I