She is running, running never to stop,
Wishing and regretting she never had fought.
The rain blatantly slaps her back,
Her feet hit the pavement with hard sopping cracks.
Why had she not stayed and worked it all out,
She knew he could handle her little bit of doubt.
But she ran, cowering in the storm,
The thought of losing him stabbed her like a thorn.
Maybe she left to fast, gave up to quick,
Thoughts in her head churned and made her sick.
The girl didn’t know who she was anymore,
She felt so lonely and poor
He was her joy, her warmth and her wealth
Now all she had was a cold, a thorn and herself.