Colorblind-- the soldiers are coming, the soldiers are coming,
shoulder to shoulder they march across the barren land
like crawling scar tissue, gun barrels cross-stitched to their chests.
They moisten their lips with a smirk as men scan the horizon;
their eyes stare, entombed in their own ambition to bear witness
to break of Dawn as she rises above the morning trees.
Her ascent is a
dirge; a desperate gasp at the tug of the hangman's noose, but
don't tell her, don't tell her, this can't be cured until
the rope draws her final breath and she is hanging
suspended over the auburn hills like an unhinged door, creaking softly
in the wind. Her eyes are blank, colorblind-- the soldiers are waiting,
the soldiers are waiting, their fingers snake around the trigger like an anaconda
constricting its prey; if you listen closely you can hear them hiss, debating
on how long the chemo will keep her thrashing between life and death before
the night pulls her down and nothing can be heard, save for the sound
of artillery fire exploding against the stars.
Spoiler
Jane if you were Dawn could you
rescue him, Jane if you were Dawn could
you have saved her, Jane if you were
Dawn could you have saved yourself because
you are folded and she is unfolded and
he is unfolding, lung by lung.
rescue him, Jane if you were Dawn could
you have saved her, Jane if you were
Dawn could you have saved yourself because
you are folded and she is unfolded and
he is unfolding, lung by lung.
Spoiler
Sort of a rewrite of an older poem I wrote that I didn't care for very much. Really rough, not much editing... so constructive criticism is most welcome. Sorry for trampling you guys with my emo-ness and whatnot.
I think I've been reading way too much of The Wheel of Time series. Robert Jordan is god.
