Acceptance and Rejection

If I cried when anyone died,
When would I stop sobbing?
Six billion folk on Earth in all,
Not one of us immortal.

Tabloid papers they all say
A killer storm is on its way!
It may blow one or two away;
I won't let it spoil my day.

Headlines howl of disaster ahead,
As though we soon should all be dead.
I greet it with phlegmatic shrug.
The media's like an addict's drug,
A conveyor belt of misery.
They won't get to me today.