The Dots In Every Line Poem by Spellshifter Poetry

those who see every dot in every line to the point of no return give a special meaning to the word refugee
the skies fall on them metric tonnes at a time even in their sleep with 110 dB screams right in their somnolent ears
and
they come back into the realm drowning in their own personal oceans grasping a fainting hope with one finger holding tight onto it
the world sighs and turns the page changes the channel calls it deserved or sees without seeing writes about it
the rightful rage never comes
the world sleeps even in its waking hours with its 9s to the 5s averting all attention to its issues at hand that somehow are still unsolvable
the well is drained in its entirety but the world pretends the mud will save us if we just keep squeezing until its very last drop of pure clear water without wanting to realize that what it holds in its hands is just dust and sickness
fates come together to embrace each other in this end
the end is well passed the door and unto every pillow