Wishing For Death Poem by Francie Lynch

Have you wished someone dead?
Self doesn't count.
Terminally ill don't count,
In fact, that may be construed as kind.
No. Someone vibrant, strong,
Sure and vain, like:
The relentless bully,
The cop at your door,
The ridiculing teacher
Who made you the fool.
The betrayer and rumour monger,
The bad news-bearing Dr.
The machine voice,
The government,
The rapist and child molester,
The boko haram (all terrorists) ,
Even your parents.
You can't wait for Karma
Or God, or for them to go to the devil.
You can't depend on toilets falling,
Or houses in hurricanes.
It's not illegal, half of us do it.
I envision driving the final nail myself.
At certain times, it's true,
I regret the absence of hell
With its gnashing, its unquenchable fires
That burn without consuming:
The smelly, curling, shrinking flesh,
The bubbling of fat through skin;
Because sudden death
Just doesn't cut it.