Run

[Guest chloeisme!]

I see them staring,

i see them laughing.

 

I feel the hurting,

the product of the attacking.

 

I notice the bruises,

and feel as black as they are.

 

I welcome the pain,

because i open my arms to it.

 

I stare at the cuts,

those of their accord, and those i so carefully placed.

 

I glance at the stars outside,

wishing i could go as far away as they are.

 

I go outside,

letting the icy air drive through my skin.

 

I run,

into the lights reflecting off the pavement.