There must be a word
for the bleak realization
of the systematic inhumanity
on which our world operates—
which carries the
self-directed disgust
of how desensitized we’ve
been— up until the moment
the thought shakes us
that our ending point
is a corpse—
like a child distraught to realize
his body is a separate entity
than the womb who
created him,
How he curses an indifferent god
who has left him naked,
How as a race we suffer
by the cruelty of a creator
to give us the concept
of eternity, yet
the tantalizing confines
of mortality.