Rare Embrace

Clock ticking,
she can hear it,
there's clicking,
her heels on the pavement
as she runs away from herself.
It shouldn't be possible
while standing still,
when the pain she's holding
is immeasurable.

Where to run
when ghosts are everywhere?
Where to turn
when humanity says it cares,
but instead stares,
and turns away?
Until one of many
pauses to take the time
to ask if she's okay.

©August 2014, April 2022
Christina Anne Hawthorne

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