I didn’t get the job I wanted.
While a fire raged at my town’s door.
I don’t know how many creatures died,
or how many trees were burned.
My home was safe,
but the land suffered carnage.
Devastation lies all around.
And when I see it I am reminded,
of where my hope used to be,
the plants and animals that died,
and the beauty that was destroyed.
It was all so senseless.
It gave me invisible scars.
So I gave myself real ones to match.
Now I must find a way to fight myself.
The addiction I created.
While I am surrounded by reminders,
of my failure.
I didn’t have it the worst.
Animals lost lives,
and people lost their homes.
So why should I feel sorry for myself.
It makes me loath me,
to feel so weak.
And with that weakness,
the addiction grows.
My wife helps,
and I fight it for my children.
I try to turn this around.
While the world fights me.
But one day, someday,
I’ll find my victory.
Poetry
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