Had I known life would be this full of despair, I would not have lived.
Yet since I was not given a choice, why not find the good?
Why should I allow work to overrun me?
Why should I wallow in my self-pity?
Why should my life change without my consent?
The fickle feelings of love and lost love drive me mad.
Could I not choose to pursue someone?
Would not that upset my life's ideals?
Would not that end this strife?
Do I not stand for anything save sloth?
Inaction plagues my very thoughts as comfort controls my life.
How do I justify my injustice?
Is not every human life valuable?
Could not war be as anti-human as possible?
Is not greed the general of conquest?
America mediates middle-class, middle-age, middle-ground.
Is not the ruling class the upper-class?
Are not the middle-aged in charge of me?
Does not the middle-ground appear closer to both sides?
Should not America stand for equality and fairness?
Killing millions of people regardless of culpability is wrong.
Could not America stand for liberty instead of safety?
Could not America stand for freedom instead of entertainment?
Could not America stand for living instead of killing?
Am I not to blame?