just another red dawn.


someone, anyone
why won't it end?

didn't you promise one day it would stop?
what am I?
still alive-
why can't I finally sleep?

I have died but I didn't stay dead-
not in the way that mattered.

nights huddled and weak
furious when hands cannot fight
when words were my only strength

trembling/standing/breathing under a mountain
of insurmountable knowledge that cannot be said
not in any of the words I know

not die, never die
not like this
just another red dawn

but the snow bird sings differently
'pitiful child' it croons
as claws cut red rivers in a thin arm

it's just another red dawn, nothing else, nothing more

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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