I just felt like

I should run away,

it is a familiar feeling,

one that has been a bleak guide,

this signpost of being in the way,

of offering nothing,

just a spot in the dark

where it would be easier

to overlook, easier to find solace

in the long walk to another

self-destructive path

where they cannot reach me,

for a while,

paved with painted stems of sunflowers along its edge,

bristling with imagined life, for there

I might stop seeing the faces