Send me screaming and spiraling to the encore, bravado of the loved, into the inferno that brews with each pant

I'm running.

I'm fleeing and my feet hit the concrete a little slower each time and the passenger of the sedan on my left is pulling a gun

I'm on the ground now, blood soaking into the pavement, laughs echoing off empty buildings

My old home.

Why did I ever come back?