Nothing was finished when you we're finished with me.

You had crossed the make believe finish line but the factual system of my heart didn't have such opinion.

I didn't even begin yet.
I had so many things needed to be felt and to begin was something I had not fathomed.

I wasn't ready to run away while you we're sprinting.

I didn't have the chance to thank you for the lessons.
For the hidden truth you shown me.

The many times you opened doors to new things and then shut them immediately to throw me into the next I nearly memorized them all.

Mesmerized by the love I didn't see the hate you led a stray.

Like a wolf it stalked me and I was the Rabbit never to far from the hole because my instincts still knew before my innocence ever did.

You were that hot stove a 3 year old grasps onto but only once.

That burn that screams for attention and you never go near it again even when it's become cold,

You see that was my fault.

I let you in after each and every burner scorched my fucking hands and all that was left was the oven and you were holding it open.

I felt the heat and I was so damn close to sticking my head inside to see if I only had a brain like the Scarecrow.

But I saw the scars.
I felt the marks.
I knew time and time again it all was the same red.

And then and only then, was I ready to run away.