Tainted Gift

I didn’t ask to be born, and yet here am I
Gifted with life, but knowing I’ll die.
The thrice tainted gift that none can refuse
Brings suffering: fear, pain and abuse.
And so we must strive to keep those at bay
There can be no rest, just fight every day.
For how can you sleep at peace in your bed
Knowing another still needs to be fed?
How can you lie to yourself with each breath,
And feel any joy when another fears death?
Oh why do we live each in silent enclave
And not have a care for those we enslave?
For our lives are lived on the backs of the weak,
The poor, the downtrodden, those forced to be meek.
We claim to be proud and clever and strong,
But still do not see what we do is so wrong.
I didn’t ask to be born, and yet here am I
Gifted with life, but knowing I’ll die.

E.M. Swift-Hook