I watch beneath the purple lights

a ball kicked high in the sky.

I wish I played soccer.

On frigid nights I imagine lacing up my cleats,

braving the cold and the wind

racing with my team.

Mom and Dad never let me play.

"Too much money, too much time."

when really they were afraid I'd injure myself

twist an ankle,

bang a knee,

and demand they come to every game to support me.

Now, I can't kick a ball.

All I can do is run in circles by myself,

music blasting far too loud, 

but I do run.

I run hard and fast.

I run longer than people deemed I could last.

And my parents shake their heads,

proclaiming I will break, break, break.

But I love running.

I train well.

I build my legs like feather-weight tree trunks,

rooted strong enough to soar.

I'm going to run all the way to Montreal someday.

I won't break, break, break.

But I will break, break, break away.

Mom and Dad never let me stay.

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