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Poem
One day I was in a hospital,
witnessing human birth.
I took in the repulsive, beautiful sight
as Earth's population grew by one.
A tiny specimen, ready to bring eternal joy to the world.
Innocence flourishing in front our eyes like a rose.
But lacking pricks.
Little hands reaching for life's essence
in every extension of their arms.
The fragility of their bodies
and minds.
Molding a masterpiece of humanity
and morality is the goal.
I know every parent looks into their child's eyes,
and sees potential glory.

Persevering through trials of the storm,
trying to find that guiding rainbow as it forms.
Triumphing over all obstacles to find that golden treasure.
Instead of metal, they found a golden child
to instill them with pleasure.
The one who makes dreams a reality,
and blows away nightmares in winds of charity.
But life isn't always a wonderland.
Around every corner exists potential quicksand.

In another room of the hospital,
there's a man with cancer.
He has a lovely wife
and 2 daughters, one's a ballet dancer.
His wife, beside him, bears the image
of a statue chiseled by needles and pills.
She numbs the pain behind shady thrills.
In another room is a woman who's a victim of time.
Right place, wrong time, struck by a stray bullet
in an attempt of a homicidal crime.
As blood trickled from her spine,
thoughts flowed through my mind.
What kind of world is this we yearn to live in?
In actuality, life may be the curse
and death may be the blessing.
At least while we're young,
ignorant and innocent, we have sweet bliss.
But when time accelerates age,
we're all touched by the Devil's kiss.
It lingers throughout the rest of our days.
Until feelings of happiness leave us dazed.
And blinded by Hell's smoky haze.

I have no desire to see such a delicate
and warm creature turn stone cold.
Most try to maintain morality,
but the sun doesn't shine until the attempt folds.
I refuse to watch that epidemic unfold.
So I fill my hands with that child of gold.
The infant cries, I smile and bring the loud noise to a halt.
My desire is her suffocation.
In the end, I'll know that
she's happy and it's my fault.
She'll find eternal bliss where freedom comes without a fee.
Life comes with a price, but death comes free.
At least hers will be without the woes
that life makes us endure.
And as a bonus, she won't have to deliver
a victim cursed of life's lure.
So tonight, I'll rest peacefully bound to individuality.
The good deed is done, and I'll keep trying to maintain my morality.
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