Run

I’m running, running faster than I ever have,

Running away from everything, though I know I shouldn’t,

But what is there left for me, I ask myself,

Nothing short of hate and despair,

I’m a fugitive, hiding beneath the trees for cover,

I’m a threat to society, no-one wants to take me in.

Why would they, I look a mess,

Branches and twigs have left marks on my arms,

My hair is a nest for broken leaves,

My shoes are worn, mud is threatening to tear the seams,

And my face.. My face is blackened, and the blemishes of soot and dust remain,

I’m bruised, signs of abuse.

But what am I really, who am I?

I’m nothing more than a boy,

Hurt and troubled, driven out of his own home,

I’m just a child, just like you,

Hunted down like an animal,

And they want to kill me for sport.

Think to yourself, do I deserve this?

Until you make your decision,

I’ll keep running.

And I’ll never stop.