Run Home

It feels like

I always know where

I want to go and

everyone I care about is

running in the opposite direction.

I can run, too.

I run home-

my purple bedroom walls bring me

back to a time when

I wasn't obligated to care.

A time when I could shut myself

off from the world,

create a fake one in my head

and live there until

Mom called me downstairs for dinner.

Maybe I'm

just missing something.

Maybe I'm just not good enough anymore

for these awkward, two-text-messages

a day conversations.

And You-

You Asshole-

if you make Mom cry

one more time I swear to

you I'll make you regret it.