The Runaway

Excellence Award in the 'Step Write Up 2011' competition

The fierce wind ruffles my hair,
the trees sway in despair.
My feet, all sore and bare,
I scurry franticly without a care.
The vicious rain starts to pelt,
whipping me like a leather belt.
Sharp blades of pain slicing through my body was all I felt,
my soul, my strength was starting to melt.
The ghostly howls of death made me quiver,
the raw chills of winter made me shiver.
At the hell-house, I couldn't stay,
that way of life was too tough, anyway.
I remember my sorrow cries in agony,
oh, how those times were a tragedy.
Now, here I am, on my way,
undertaking the role as a runaway.

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