When I was younger people told me not to get lost.
Voices would fly up and catch in the wind and be thrown back to them
as I ran through the wheat towards the blackberries.

While they called for me from a distance, calling to themselves,
I would stain my tongue violet and my fingers purple.
Then run farther away, I’m not sure where. Farther than they made it.

It’s easy for me to run, it’s only me.
When they run, they try to carry all of them.
You have to run alone though, if you want to make it anywhere.

When they reached the blackberries they all held hands
creating a barricade of arms so i couldn’t run away
a barricade of arms for me to break through.

(It’s not nearly as fun to run if there is nothing to hold you back)
(What can you discover, otherwise?)

As I emerged on the other side with my blue stained hands
they stared at my in shocked awe, the barricade broken.
They tried to run after me, but like i said,
you can’t get lost with other people.

So I ran away alone.
Only you can be found.