The Returning Man

I was a runaway. A boy with burning footsteps in the night.

I took the roads that led away from anything that felt like life.

I stole my chances in the dark, slept beneath the weight of what

I'd done. But, the wind kept calling out my name,

so I kept running toward the rising sun. They buried who they thought I

was, but I was already someone new. And I was a fighter,

built from bruises, dust, and gasoline. I learned to breathe inside the

dark where no one else would dare to dream. My hands stayed