It;s my turn.
As my shoes hit the dirt....
In danger I seem to flirt.
It greets me every day.
I'm never out of it's path.
I smile a broken smile.
I see the tornado......I brace for it.
I'm in it's path I feel it's wrath.
I swirl upward.
It spits me out.
Even this storm can't handle the taste of me.
Friends leave me there beat up and scared.
I bleed, screaming, and can't you hear or see?
If I were to meet my demise.
As you look at my scarred face in my coffin.
Would you even feel guilt from this casualty
that you neglected and left parts of me?
Now my closest supports have died and or are gone.
Now I'm freaking out and at the same time growing numb.
Am I a wanderer? Or just plain dumb?
For it's my turn and I shall cover this story with gas,
light you with a match and watch, as I walk away,
and you are the one left to burn.