The One About Death
When I was five I discovered Santa.
I had a pretty good hunch he wasn’t real.
So I would whisper my Christmas wishlist under my breath,
Just so that I could call my parents out on that bullshit.
I had a big enough ego to know
I’d been a really good girl. A good enough girl
To not only deserve all my Legos,
But also a real, pocket-sized,
Dinosaur (which I knew wouldn’t happen
Unless the magic man was real,
And boy did I deserve an ancient
When I was five I discovered death.
That’s also when I found a stray cat
That would have died if it wasn’t fed.
It was a good pet for twelve years after that.
When I was five I discovered god.
And like with Santa, the whole setup
Wasn’t convincing and disappointing that someone
Would lie to you like that in the first place.
I went back to being terrified of death.
It seemed like an unfair end to things.
Twenty-two years later it still seems
Like and unfair end to things.
And I still think I deserve my raptor.