Something’s Worn

The world is a scary place.
Fire and war
war and fire
And I grow tired
of the sadness
poured out
and shaken
like the people
in the middle
of the fight

And I cannot
bring an ounce
of relief in
my worrying
my fretting
and the half-chewed

Still, I am worn
left wanting
and wishing
were all
a dream
perhaps tomorrow
when I wake
sunlight will
remind me
that we aren’t

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