you don’t pick your death

she staggered
down the broken pavement
leaving bloody footprints
to mark the trail
leading back
towards the scene
of her undoing

a wild gleam
in her eyes
spoke of things
best left
unspoken

she needed
a stiff drink
a three hour shower
possibly
a nice soft mattress
to pass out upon
once
it was all
said and done

the roars of frustration
of primal rage
pain
and a hint of retribution
echoed
from behind
growing closer
every
second

she winced
as her shoulder remained
out of socket
blowing
a strand of hair
from her blood matted
face

this was not
one of those moments
you run from

she spat blood
to the broken stones
cracked her neck
resigned
to what would have to
happen next
turned back
towards the pounding steps
racing
towards her
with a sigh.

you don’t pick
your death
and you most certainly don’t
try to escape it

her father
had told her that

she hated to admit
he was right

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