Birth

Spat out, no choice; plunged into the fray,

Fatal flow, no voice; for all we need to say,

Compassion forced on some; incompatible with life,

A rancid curse in a universe, filled with needless strife.

Thirsty, shaded flowers wither, slowly dying,

Despite lack of powers; its supposed they're just not trying,

Labelled as the flawed; the meek, weak and fragile,

By those with hearts unthawed, mental gymnasts oh so agile.

Those they think are troubled, just can't block reality,

Unable to change the channel on the cosmic LCD,

Most will end up early dead, and beat the mob in hell,

Embarrassed by the lives we led, even if we lived them well.

I live for one purpose now, strange a reason it may be,

And that is to find out how, they we can o longer see.