The fugitive

Pockets emptied
Debts burned
Name changed
Nothing left
Not even my ghost

On the run
Empty suitcase
Plenty of baggage
Head full of scars
Guilty conscious

Hiding in shadows
Willing to risk it all
For a chance
To start over again
Like I swore I would

You won’t find me
Already miles away
Or am I still here?
I saw you yesterday
But you didn’t see me

Nothing to lose
Everything to gain
A man like me
Is only as good
As his latest attempt

Catch me
If you can
Waiting to see
If you have
What it takes

A fugitive
Won’t quit
Until capture
Or death…
Good luck, L.B.

A poem by Jason S. Sullivan, 08-28-20

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