Dichotomy of a Hamburger

I often wish that things were the other way around. Hamburgers taste different upside down. Taste buds invaded in different ways. I beg and beg for better days I wish I got parents who held me near. Instead of love infused with fear I wish my heart was held all nice and neat. Doomed from the start. Old patterns repeat. Deathly afraid of dying alone. Embracing friends, who put blades through my bone. I wish I could see my own life as clearly as I see you. I wish you could see mine, and tell me what to do. I should have been dead when I turned 19. Just another dead marine. I couldn't even do THAT right. Zero reasons left to fight. Sometimes I wish you would tell me I'm trash, if that's what you really think. You say I'm the best cognac, but you won't take a drink. You won't include me in your dinners, or sell me in your store. My flame is dying. Flatline. It doesn't matter any more. I wish I didn't die alone on the floor. But people rarely see me anymore. Sometimes I'll get a call. Sometimes 2 or 3. But rarely do loved ones come and hug me. I hope they find me quickly, because my dog needs to eat. I hope for that encounter, where the two of us meet.