You wasted your days running after me.
Running till your legs burned,
your chest ached,
and your heart hurt.
You ran so fast
and so hard
and so blindly,
that you didn’t notice
how I ran behind you.
I pursued you,
but you pursued an illusion.
How could you not know
that you were chasing something
you already had?
Did you not feel me
during the lazy afternoons you spent in the garden,
as the rays of sun glistened lazily
and the grass brushed against your fingers?
Did you not hear me
in the way your voice swelled,
filling the room, as your favourite song played alongside,
on those late nights when there was nobody
except you and the music?
Did you not see me
in the incessant wag of your dog’s tail,
and the pure adoration in his eyes,
when he pounced on you in greeting
after an exhausting day at work?
And did you really not notice me
in the way your parents hugged you
as if they would never let go?
As if they could never love anyone
like they loved you?
You must have seen me then.
I was in the corner, begging to be recognised,
but you ignored me.
You turned the other cheek,
You ran after me,
while I ran after you.
You chased happiness,
but I was always right behind you.
I was always here.
And I always will be.
You just have to stop running,
and turn around.
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