poems

second death

it’s the accidental martyr

that’s seeped into these veins

the one who died

doing what he believes in

giving air to ones that were dying

for something bigger than them

something beyond one man

it’s the one that’s settled deeper in disguise

giving breath to almost rotten dreams

giving birth to new movement in the same old feat

it’s the second death

that’s brought me back

in a second death

is another life’s first stab