Fire Laughing Poem by Dead Beat Poet

It seems so natural,
wanting your hurt.
You think I love you,
I only flirt.

You say that you're helping,
and just show up.
But all that you do,
is slurp from my cup.

Your existence is optional,
from my perspective.
I've opened my mind,
to be more selective.

You wake every morning,
to the scent of my breath.
Wanting a kiss,
wishing for death.

When you turn,
from ashes to rust.
I'll scrape you right up,
nothing but dust.

A creature of habit,
is what you've become.
I'll set you on fire,
and giggle as you run.