I ought to run faster.

I ought to bite the hand 'fore it alludes me. I wish the fish would die so I could eat them. I ought to cut my flesh 'fore it consumes me. I pray the day I shot will not cause mayhem. I ought to drink the tears 'fore they submerge me. I hope I cope and stop the drop of knowledge. I ought to stab my legs 'fore they deterge me I crave the save of glee in me that I could never really acknowledge.