The Calm

No love lost, a little boy is dead.
No pain caused, he suffocated in bed.
His bedroom reeks of smoke, his lungs caked in coal
Suspended in time, forever eleven years old.
Charred bones and makeshift linens stale with the scent of death
Empty spaces where people should be,
where the dead can’t dance and only the weak are left.
Ashes to ashes ring around the trailer park until your eyes roll back.
Up in smoke, no more jokes, Santa can’t pay visits to the ones that fucking choke.
Oh what a world.
Oh this building should be brought to the ground.
Oh this child shouldn’t have been taken from his town.
No love lost, a little boy is dead.