First Time I Learned to Run

The first time I learned to run,
I was too young to know what fear really was,
But my body knew.
It carried me through doorways,
Away from fists, away from words that cut too deep,
Away from a life I never asked for.
I didn’t look back,
Not until the night was safe,
Until the screams were just echoes in the distance.
I learned that running didn’t mean escape—
It meant survival.
A child running from the hands that should have held me.
The first time I ran, I ran from love,
From broken hands and shattered trust.
I didn’t know how to fight or stay,
So I ran, and I’m still running today.
The first time I thought I’d be free,
I learned that walls follow you,
Even when you’ve left them behind.
My father’s voice, my mother’s silence—
They were never far,
A shadow on the back of my heels.
I ran through life, looking for shelter,
But every door I opened felt the same.
The same cold, the same empty promises,
The same lies I told myself
To make the running feel worthwhile.
The first time I ran, I ran from love,
From broken hands and shattered trust.
I didn’t know how to fight or stay,
So I ran, and I’m still running today.
Now, I look back at the path I’ve worn,
A life of running,
A life of fleeing what I didn’t want to face.
But the first time taught me everything I needed to know—
Sometimes, the only way to survive is to run.
The first time I ran, I ran from love,
From broken hands and shattered trust.
I didn’t know how to fight or stay,
So I ran, and I’m still running today.