I wished I could remember my beginnings
Perhaps it would makes sense of what
I am now
So many years jumbled into today
I don’t remember why I first felt
The need to walk
Or to talk
I wished I did
Then it would all make sense
Why did I fail at addition
2+2 makes 4
I don’t get it
The whole sense of purpose
That spurs us through our days.
We procreate and live redundant moments upon moments
Calling it life
Why do we strive for that which we will never achieve
Perfection does not exist on our plane
Our leaders are flawed
They lead us into lies
Why do we forge against our very nature
When we kill a life we kill ourselves in some small part
Is the survival of the fittest relevant today.
Survival is what matters
The written word holds more power than a finger on the trigger
What lasts longer? The memory of a death, or the thought of a life?
But then what is life and when does it begin
Are we of such stature that we can decide such things
When were we made God
And did anyone ask him face to face
What he thought of his creation, that is us?
What have we done that makes us better than we were
When we once donned clubs and grunted our syllables
Advancement upon advancement makes us little more than what we were,
we just have more toys to play with…
