Circling the past in a small world

Sometimes the world is too small 

And too round

And everything you run from

Comes back around

Disguised as something else

It seeps in

Creeps in

Gets through the cracks

Fills in the spaces

Not always a good thing

Like toxic 

Toxic waste

That's what it can be like

When the past comes back

To haunt you

And haunt you it does

You cannot run from it 

Not in a town like this

Not in a world so round

It comes back around

The good yes

But also the bad 

And you can't run forever

In a circle 

In a round world

And not stumble

Upon a ghost

So run if you must

But do so knowing

Exactly what it is 

You are running from

And at least approximately 

Where it is you are going