"The Warning"by Roy Dawson Earth Angel Master Magical Healer The Boss

"The Warning"
by Roy Dawson
I told them not to do it. I said it as plain as the morning sun cutting through a dirty window. No poetry. No flair. Just truth in its simplest, hardest form. The kind of truth that doesn't need decoration because it's been earned—paid for in scars and sleepless nights.
But they did it anyway.
They always do.
They hear the warning, sure. Hear it the way you hear a train in the distance. But they’re too busy admiring the tracks to get off them. And when the crash comes, when the wreckage is still warm and their pride lies bleeding beside them, they look up at me. As if I drove the damn train.
I warned them because I cared. That’s the rotten part. Not because I wanted to be right—not because I enjoy seeing the fall—but because I wanted them to skip the pain. You don’t live long and clean in this world without learning that most trouble can be seen coming, if you’re looking the right way. And I was. I was looking check here out for them.
But they went ahead anyway.
And when it all blew up—when the night turned black and sharp and angry—they stood there, smoke in their hair, ash in their mouth, and had the gall to be mad at me.
It’s easier that way, I suppose. Easier to blame the man with the warning than the fool in the mirror.
So they’re angry. Red in the face. Burning with it. If they’re reading this now, they’re chewing the inside of their cheek, fists clenched, maybe muttering under their breath how I don’t know anything.
But I do.
I knew then. I know now. And I’ll know the next time. Because there will here be a next time. There always is with people like this. They touch the fire, curse the heat, then strike the match again.
Maybe next time they’ll listen. Maybe more info next time they’ll see the hand extended isn’t holding them back—it’s pulling them out of the way.
Then again, maybe not.
But I’ll keep saying it. Because someone has to.
And read more if you're reading this—and you know who you are—don’t bother acting surprised. You said it yourself: “I’ll do what I want.” And website you did. Look how well that worked out.
Still want to keep pretending this is my fault?