Imagine watching everything you want sprint away from you while you can't keep up. That's the picture at the heart of this poem. The speaker's dreams are literally running, and their own arm is too short to catch them, their legs too slow. The screaming and crying in the second stanza show real desperation, a body pushed until it hurts.
Then the energy drains out. The dreams vanish over the horizon, and the speaker simply stops trying. What stings most is the comparison: other people seem to reach their dreams and finish them, while the speaker always falls back. The poem doesn't suggest why, which makes the failure feel even more personal.
The mood is raw and heavy, moving from panic to exhausted defeat. The last lines are the bleakest. Feeling "hollow" and decide that the dreams "were nothing but lies" suggests the speaker isn't just disappointed but has lost faith in hoping at all.