I try to hide from the places in my head...
But running is not an option...
Facing the pain is like reaching out to grab a dozen roses only to be stabbed with thorns...
I used to say...I will worry about the pain later....
Left ******, leaking a trail across my paths,
Everywhere I look the ground is painted red....
I close my eyes... but the smell of lead perfumes the air and my fingers are wet with the essence.....
I can not run from my mind.
So I hide in the shadows lost at my thoughts...
The memories are a burden to bear,
I’m hurting....
Hurting...
Yet no one is there.
Why haven’t I been found yet?
I open my eyes....looking down at my tightly, clenched fist, dead roses, dried blood, leaves withering...
All this time I’d been holding on to pain,
When my mind could have told my body...
It’s ok...to let go...of it...