When I was born,
I cried,
As a sign
Of being welcomed into a world full of sorrow and hardship.
What is death?
Is death the reason why people are born?
All thoughts are a result of blurred vision,
Where society is trapped inside a cage of heavy darkness,
Wherein dwell beasts — some who eat meat, and others who eat grass.
Those who eat meat rule over those who eat grass,
But the day will come when the grass-eaters
Will gain understanding and transform,
And they too will start eating meat,
Because of the growth of strong, sharp teeth.
What is death?
Is death the result of birth,
Or is birth the cause of death?
That's my first poem
