The Birds, a Girl, a Runner

Poem about being hurt

Running down the path the birds call, fear of being falsely intimidated. They call my name as I come close. They scream and cry not to come near. But I must, I'm a runner. They swoop and dive to thrive and survive. Night and day they must do this. If only I could speak their sound I would save them the energy. Like a broken girl from a heart torn side to side the birds remind me of her desperation. The call she sounds from anger and fear of being alone is her swooping. If only I could speak her tone I could explain. I could save her the energy. But the call is too loud. The crying too consuming and booming. I wish I could change the stage and take the sorrow or at least borrow it for a time so the birds could rest. But maybe this is the test, the birds dive as protecting me from a hive and the sweet sorrow that will come from ignoring. The birds are protecting their nest as the heart of the girl I broke. I'm a runner though, maybe I can go by fast as if a sonic boom blast. Maybe it'll be so fast she can't see me. Her tear filled eyes should buy me time to pass but how I do this and be so crass? I can not fix what I've done. I can not just shoot at the birds for fun. I can only run. I'm a runner.