Tropical Storm: Res.

Natural disasters are spiking like a bed of nails

Dead bodies dangle from the ceiling, falling from seasons like snowflakes

No stories are the same

Spread your wings, warrior

I’ll weave you a parachute from plastic bags that way you can jump from even higher

Glide through the air with freedom calling your name

Is that what he told you would happen?

Conjure a tornado of pens and paper

Like Dorothy's house, twister winds yank you from your foundations

Before you can say help, your hand is filled with a pencil, this is your help

Sign alongside your brothers and sisters

Cross your t’s and dot your i’s

Like hail beating on your back I-I-I-I can’t do this anymore

I can’t watch as you drink whiskey like water when I just want to dance in the rain

Pine needles stab me like icicles, cold and unforgiving

As I reach under the tree for presents that aren’t even there

My whole life is a mudslide and I scream like an avalanche but nobody hears me

So I’ll flood my body with this remedy

You can leave me with the rest of the corpses

This poem is about: 
My community


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