Blood pops in her veins,
Releasing a hot rush of adrenaline that flows throughout her spine,
Down the core of her chest and out through open pours it runs liquid,
A clear sweat that has yet to reveal itself as fury.
A pace her legs once glided at now quickens,
Movement so jagged only the birds last in the race
Pajama pants and a white laced top cover her ribbed chest,
Hiding the tattoos she has so carefully buried underneath.
But when white turns to clear
The grime under her eyes and nails is illuminated,
And she screams.
For running and running and running
Has done her no good.
For when blood is released into air,
It hardens
Coagulates and drops in temperature.
She is blood,
And the earth is Oxygen
Nitrogen
And all those infamous components
That kill her.