Running.

Barren feet. Red from running,

slapping concrete,

blistered from sleeplessness.

 

Light, bony, starving fingers,

hard and numb, tracing the walls

of your thoughts.

 

Eyes hungry for lights, but no

tendrils  cast through the solid walls.

The solid walls of negligence.

 

A tattered, milky gown, ripped

and dirty, scraggly, telling a story

of its own.

 

My mind's been running all day.

All night.

AndI can't take it anymore.