I have beer when I want whiskey,

And I drink until I feel warm,

Buzzing like fireflies,

Or maybe like bees, warm like summer.

Summer, summer, I hate you.

The hottest days of the year,

hotter than I ever remember you being.

Fires every year, catastrophe.

And they remove climate change from the White House website.

I did self-care yesterday; today, I self-destruct.

I watch my father draw in bright colors, pencils he hasn’t touched in years.

My mother is excited. I am, too. My eyes fill with tears.

I don’t want this world to end.

My dad has picked up his pencil once more, to make beautiful things,

because there is always beauty in this existence.

This is such a small piece of the world, and it is so precious.

How many other pieces that make up the whole?

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