The wind kicked up and caught my hair, blowing it out of my face.
The rocks on the road and dirt in my toes made my sandals seem out of place.
The sun began its’ evening descent, making me quicken my pace.
The stains on my shirt and dust in my eyes remind me of my disgrace.
The blood on my knees and rocks in my hands are there to show me my place.
The road rises up, making me climb and want to abandon my chase.
The dirt in my mouth and spit on the ground mark my defiant race.