Ever feel like running? Like the weight of everything you’ve built is about to come crashing down? That’s exactly where Walk Away grabs you. The poem speaks to the part of you that wants to drop it all, to escape before the collapse, but it’s not that easy. Calice stands on the edge of something huge—success or disaster—and you can feel the fear in every line.
The moment Calice steps on stage, there’s no turning back, and neither can you. The pull to “just walk away” is there, but there’s a deeper fear, too: the fear of what happens if they succeed. What if you get everything you want and lose the safety of having a fallback, that familiarity of not knowing anything? That question lingers long after you finish reading.
The lines are raw and relatable. The battle inside is all too familiar, like the times you’ve doubted yourself, questioned if you’re enough, or if you should just quit. “Hello me, how’s fighting been?” You’ve asked yourself this before, haven’t you? But you can’t ignore the clock ticking, pushing you forward, forcing you to confront what’s next.
What would you choose: retreat into safety or risk everything for the unknown?
