The Inferno

When I was young, I was wired. 
I came too soon to the flowers. 
They sent me back,
but now I burn in the fire. 
Thanks a lot!
I became old and mean,
lying to you even now,
who was once a spotless lamb.
Now I'm all flaming flesh
that feeds upon itself.
No Dante comes 
to hear my story.
Oh, how I wish I had died
before becoming who I am.
The fates, I swear, did me in.
The gods give the gift
of dying young
to those they love.
Why not me?