Humanity
It's running from the villain through slick mud and leaves on a forest floor.
It's being thrown down repeatedly but still rising, still trying.
It's the feeling of knuckles on his face as you swing wildly-not knowing if you'll make it home.
It's rising above him and screaming as he sobs-
his practiced manipulation to mold you to his will.
It's the power in your veins though you know you're still the prey.
You always have been regardless of who the predator is today.
It's his screams, his insanity, as he realizes his loss.
It's the violence in the driving, freezing rain.
The shock of splashing through streams to escape,
the emotions pouring from our souls as we drown in the storm.
It's the defeat, returning home with stains on our jeans.
It's the indignity of the breath in our quaking lungs.
It's the pain of our existance,
the toxic personalities we no longer try to shutter.
It's the disbelief of the memory of yesterday.
It's the lingering question,
What might try to kill me today?
