I was born into life alone. I will leave it alone, too. I walk this life alone, now, just as an adolescent. Dripped in the color of rage, dying in the shade of blood, my steps leaving a maroon pool in their wake. Crimson sazuki azaleas don’t float, not even in this climate. But their thin spider web like stems make them see like they do. The world is sepia. Gray and washed out. But I walk alone. No wolf can contain me. my cape flows in the wind, I don’t look back. all I see is red.