Wildfires

Why couldn’t Death take you instead?

This is a plea, maybe even a command,
Painted on each face in a sea of strangers
That dare to give me a passing glance
Or a lingering stare.

I am on the outside looking in at
This event unfolding before my eyes;
There is a vacancy within that needs to be filled
A yearning food could never satiate.

Why couldn’t you stop her?

Now, isn’t that the million dollar question.
Who, what, when, where, why, how.
Maybe I was never meant to intervene,
but
we’ll
never
know.

Do you miss her?

Ninety-nine percent of the time, I do.
Whenever I skip a meal or complete my workout routine
I think of what she told me.
All her tips and tricks to lose weight,
To keep the audience entertained but in the dark.

But the standalone one percent still envies her
Yet hates her so much it’s somewhat ridiculous
Because even if she lost in the game of life
She still died pretty.

You know you’re a strange little birdie when
All you care about in terms of death is
Dying pretty.

Lock me up in the loony bin and walk away.