She was walking,
    letting her feet carry her somewhere else.
Somewhere away from the place she had
     called her home for almost all of the life.
She was clearing her mind,
     running away.

The itching in her wrists
     started to return again as she walked.
She glanced down at the white scars that lined her forearms,
     all self-inflicted,
     all because she was weak.

She had hurt so many people.
The boy whose name
     she didn't want to remember.
The same boy that loved her
     even when she didn't love him in return.
He wasn't the reason
     she was running.
That was completely unrelated.
She left because of how
     she felt in that house.
How lonely she always was
     how she felt every time she heard
     her mother crashing around,
    being gone for over a month.
How stressed her father always was.
How she never saw her brother anymore.

Her feet reached the edge of the bridge
     and she got up and walked on the railing
     on the side of the bridge.
It was wide enough for both of her feet to stay
     together in one place.
The cars were rushing down below,
     far enough that she knew that if she fell
     the ground would **** her upon impact.
She was tempted to jump,
     but the danger was just enough to make
     the itching in her wrists subside.
She stretched both her arms out
     a small gust of wind hit.
In that moment,
     she felt free.