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?