The order of things, dicatates the state of life.
Of birth and death
Of peace and love.
To be born first, to some, an honour bundled with waves of respect
To the rest, hate, burdened shoulders and the curse of perceptual culpability

To be first is to be condemned to the fate of being a disappointment
To be first is to perpetually fall short in the eyes of the *******
To be first is to consistently have a target placed on your head
For nothing you do holds value

The second is blessed, the immortal infant.
Always incapable, left in your situationally capable hands.
If the situation permits, you could have done more.
If it doesn't, you didn't do enough and deserve their punishment.

Their is no win in the fight for peace.
You were cursed at birth
As long as you remain in their domain, the breeders and the later bred wear your head on the door nail.