He runs through the street in the night.

Naked.

Covered in grime and sweat
and blood.

His whole body is burning with a piercing pain

that makes its way from the edge of his skin

to his deepest hidden mechanisms

and then all the way back out.

Screaming and crying
in the noisy
metropolitan darkness.

Asking for help
but refusing to accept it.

The mistake is clear

and it is also clear

that this is not the first time.

And it is
clear
that this
is not
the last
time.

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