My words are all gone
dried up somewhere between hates
and tossed Molotovs
shaken and well stirred
by a well-chilled media
looking to give thrills
like a bad boyfriend
entertained by my sorrow—
relishing my tears.
Here my words are lodged
like a stone lump in my throat...
too big to swallow.
I want to run but
the headlights sting my eyes blind—
now I just see dark.
If I could just find
the words that would build a bridge
we could all end this.
The shrill sirens howl…
the lament of wolves at war...
that nobody wins.
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