They are the only ones who hurt me. I am the only one who can prevent them. Two purple strawberries with red blood pouring out and sand getting mixed into the cut. Two who aren’t welcomed but still happen. Two painful cuts punctured by the rocks mixed in. From our dugout, we can see them happening, but the team ignores them because we’ve had them before.
Their damage is deep. They send pain throughout our body. They happen the second you put your leg down on the hard sand to slide into home for the winning run. They hurt.
Without them sliding would be easy; not having to worry about standing up and blood dripping onto your pants. Pain, pain, pain is all I feel when I shower. They kill.
When I am too hurt and bleeding too much, when I can’t stand up, I look down and realize my accomplishment.  When there is no more healthy skin. Two who happen from any surface. Two who cause pain and suffering for at least a week. Two whose only purpose is to harm.