I remember the first time I saw him, 

He was arrogant and loud,

He still is to this day, 

He is a man swollen with a twisted belief,

That nothing in this world stood above him. 

The rules bend around him like frightened servants.

He is a true menace in plain sight. 

Yet everyone adored him, 

They worshipped the man who never loses, 

The man who lives for the race, 

The man who runs, 

As if Death itself could never catch him.

But I saw the truth in him, 

He is a thief wearing a crown    

And then there was her, 

The girl I loved in silence for a year, 

From the shadows, 

From the corners where my eyes could linger, 

Without ever being seen.

She was perfect. 

Too perfect for the world that surrounded her. 

Her smile was soft, 

Like something sacred only meant for me.

She was supposed to be mine, 

And he noticed me staring at her. 

He looked at her, 

Then at me, 

And asked if she’s mine. 

I froze. 

Just for a moment. 

A single moment too long, 

And that was all he needed.

He walked over to her, 

As if she were a prize, 

Waiting to be claimed. 

He made her laugh in ways

I had rehearsed a thousand times in my head. 

Her smile widened for him, 

Her voice was soft and gentle, 

Sweet enough to haunt my dreams. 

Her body leaned toward him, 

And his hand rested against her arm,

Like it had always belonged there. 

She was supposed to be mine, 

And he stole her from me, 

Like it was nothing to him, 

Like taking a coin from a beggar’s hand. 

So I confronted him. 

I demanded what was mine,

And he laughed, 

Laughed like I was a joke

God forgot to finish writing. 

Then he offered me a race for her. 

He would even give me a head start. 

He asked with a wicked smile, 

“How badly do you want her?” 

He knew. 

He knew I couldn’t beat him. 

But I ran anyway. 

Because she was watching. 

Surely she would see the truth. 

Surely she would see that he was a monster.

A man who didn’t deserve her. 

A man who would treat her like another trophy, 

To hang on his wall.

I looked back,

And saw her clinging to him, 

Looking at him like he was a god. 

Why couldn’t she see what I see? 

I ran, 

I ran until my lungs burned, 

Slowed down a little, 

Not even sure if I was close to the finish line,

I had to look back, 

Not understanding her devotion, 

To her new god she just met. 

As I was looking back, 

He started running, 

And he was already past me, 

Eyes locked on the finish line, 

Not even acknowledging me. 

What happened to my head start? 

He won. 

Of course he won. 

Years passed. 

He never stops running, 

He never stops flaunting her in my face, 

She has his children now. 

He doesn’t care about her,

The way I do, 

He doesn’t love her, 

The way I do, 

He stole her from me, 

Because it amused him. 

Because it was a game to him. 

I hate him. 

I hate him in ways that poison the blood. 

Every breath I take tastes like him. 

Every night his laughter crawls through my skull. 

I cannot outrun him. 

I cannot beat him. 

But there is one thing that can. 

I whisper his name to Death. 

Softly. 

Over and over again. 

Like a prayer spoken in the dark. 

Death listens.

Death is patient. 

Death waits for the right door. 

And when Death finally knocks on his door, 

I will be waiting. 

Take him. 

Break him. 

Make him feel the terror, 

Of being chased.

Let him run, 

Until his legs shatter, 

Until his lungs drown in fear.

Make him understand what it feels like to lose. 

I would gladly give my life, 

For that moment. 

Take my breath. 

Take my soul. 

Take every second I have left. 

Just for a chance,

For him to see Death.