Running

Running. Running in the grass that was so sweet and green. Through air that was crisp and clear. When the sky was not full of smoke and ash. When the ground beneath my boots was soft and not crisp, sandy, and burnt. When the smell of death, blood, fire, and metal was not quite so over-powering. When the leather I wear was not so softened with age. When my hands and neck were not stained with red of my hair. When I was not hunted. When we could step out in to the sunlight without fear. When the music could be found in everything I did... we did. When we could live in the dark but not fear the light as it came to our door. When my brother did not have to cling to me so close that neither of us could barely breath just for a little comfort in this dark dreary world that has smothered and overtaken the sunshine. But I guess things could be worse. God listen to me. But it is true if I think hard. We could be dead. We could be dying of starvation, captives of the dracs or worse. We could be separated. But no, we are together and together we are strong, we have to be. We have to keep running. I must keep running. I cannot stop. We must run. Killjoy is not a title to be taken lightly.