When I think of their Alaska,
the one Alaskans see,
there is the pristine snowfall,
and mountains majesty.
I also see my sister,
skeletal -- alone;
dead from malnutrition,
reduced to skin and bone.
When I think of their Alaska,
the one the poets see,
there is aurora borealis,
and regions footprint free.
I also see my brother,
legless in a bed;
succumb to gangrene poisoning,
lost, alone, and dead.
When I think of their Alaska,
I see a promise unfulfilled,
lured to a land of loneliness,
where hopes are slowly killed.
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