Poetry: “New”

New

How many times to ponder what I should
Have said to make it stop, imbued with
The knowledge that what I said to make it
Stop would not have served to make it stop.

Now you are fragile and inconsistent, but I’m
Not sure if you have always been that way.
How many times, if it had stopped, the endless
Ruction, might we have built some new dawn.

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