I want to run, run, run; run so far that my ankles have burst, and from them, seeds have spread out and have planted others just like me, trapped in a small place that is inept to hold a person of freewill and far-fetched ideas. I want to climb, climb, climb; climb these fences that I get better at jumping each and every day, climb the rocky walls built in an effort to control the ones with wild thoughts and uncontrollable urges, the ones like me, the ones who question the definition of reality and the idea of sanity. I want to jump, jump, jump; jump so high that I can't find the ground again, and my feet are left floating and my hair is left swirling around my head as if it was underwater, as if I was drowning, when really I am flying. I want to crawl, crawl, crawl; crawl so wholeheartedly that there is a permanent crust under my fingernails, and there are stains on my knees and scrapes on my cheeks that burn when I sweat; but it is the burn that tempts the flame into a wildfire. I want to shake, shake, shake; shake so jerkily that from my ears pour millions of trapped thoughts, thoughts that have been crushed between the pages of my mind and tucked into the corner of my head, the corner that is not allowed to be untucked. I want to rip, rip, rip; rip into people, and words, and lullabies, and rip into pages so hard, so hard that the book it’s folded into falls onto the floor with only shreds as remains. I want to scream, scream, scream; scream because I am terrified or furious, because I am miserable or delighted, because I am pleasured or burned, screaming with pain and with intensity and with a fierce love. I want to burn, burn, burn; burn others and have others burn me, burns that come from vicious romance and burns that come from sudden realizations, burns that turn into open flames in the soul that ignite our need to be beautiful and our own person. I want to stretch, stretch, stretch; stretch my words into novels or my emotions into decisions, or my ideas into inventions. I want to grab, pull, mend; grab the arms of the person who is burying me beneath the soil that is my fears, and pull their hair so that their skull bursts and their own doubts come flying out, and mend their bodies back into the beautiful person they were before they let their own insecurities mold them into a creature of spite. I want to walk, listen, learn; walk along a road that I have helped pave with my own memories, and listen to the sounds of life around me, and learn to let the everlasting beauty in the universe keep me forever satisfied and of peaceful mind. I want to be free, and one day I will look back at the desires I describe in this very moment, and I will chuckle at the fire in my head that told me I could control my own path.