We are born prematurely,
Wailing in agony, blind and mute,
Hearing that which we can't comprehend,
Visualizing that which we cannot see,
Guilty of sins not committed.
Why then do we live?
We sprout amidst thorns,
Our bodies pierced to pieces;
Wander around the world,
Yet find no nest in which to rest.
We hatch on the naked ground-
Vulnerable to heaven’s fires and sea breezes.
We try to get acclimatised,
But only suffer more.
Why then live?
We die violent deaths
And bequeath to our offspring our blood.
So the lineage continues:
Murder, prostitution, defecating babies in dustbins-
And then pretentious repentance.
Since our birth is an ordeal ordained for us,
Why live?
« return.