No matter what shade, my hair is still red. It could be auburn (which it is) or it could be orange. I’m still a redhead. I share the burden with roughly 3% of this world. I didn’t pick this cross to bear. It fell on me like the sun beams in the summer that turn my skin pink and force me to retreat to the land of spf 50.
Lying face up on the floor of an abandoned hotel complex, this thought races through my mind as I wonder will it be my last. He’s standing over me. He’s won and I’ve lost. I’ve seen the resentment for anyone different. I know the outcome for those who dissent from within. This was my cross to bear and I threw it to the side. Now I find the results. How did I end up in this position, vulnerable and unable to move? Is this the moment before death? He’s rearing back to strike again. My mind retraces my steps to this moment. It’s the search of resolution before I can no longer think.
