Bruises

My legs are bruised and my hands are bruised. I can feel them even before they're there painting my skin.

And it's ugly.

The colours are sickly and they eat away at the lily-white around them. They are poison and they hurt.

Concrete

The steps rise to meet me, taking me by the hand and embracing me with such force that I utter a sharp gasp and clench my fists. My eyes stay wide as I still and remain there for a few moments. Moving away is harder than it should be. Dragging myself up and over to the wall, I sit there, breathless and clawing at the bricks.

I look to the sky and a cry escapes my mouth.