the smell of blood and dirt
the sight of clouds and smoke
screams and wails for lost loves
the scrapes on my cheeks
the palms of my hands, my knees
and the pulsing of my heart,
places that have hit the ground
trying to heal itself, throbbing
I've got to keep running,
or get trampled upon...
the wanting of my lungs
the push and pull of air
instinctive, primal
naive....
god, i understand
i am alive
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