They whispered
things about her.
Things with needles and pins.
Things that sting.
She hid from them,
but they found her.
She ran from them,
but they followed.
She stumbled--
they attacked.
She lay then.
Broken, wondering,
amazed
at the cruelty of the world,
the darkness of our kind.
She had simply resisted
those ways to become
like them.
And so, the had acted
with a hateful violence.
She resists all.
And she still runs.
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