the world is sad

the deaths are constant

the heartbreaks are like twigs breaking beneath tiny childrens feet

the catastrophic events are like birds flying overhead, swooping down occasionally

the violence, like sparks from the fire that burns in all of us

that fire burns within all of us

until it doesnt

it can suddenly flicker

and it can grow colder and colder

till is coal and cold

i wonder if the birds beaks like the taste of tiny childrens feet

if the sparks fuel the joyful jog of children till the beaks swoop down and eat them whole

i wonder if the forests fires scare the birds into the air

swarms flying flying flying

air full of beating wings

children crying

people screaming

bodies falling

bodies lying

birds swooping

birds eating

bodies dissapearing

smaller bodies wondering

small cries fill the air

crackles of fire join them

hear the sound

smell the smell

I hear it makes some ill

But Im so used to it by now ive stopped plugging my nose

the smell of charred flesh is near me

surrounds me

is me