some peoms

A sick joke

Original rant :
Sickness has ruined me
This saline solution disrups me
It has taken my prideful victory
My precious time and has faulted me in so many other ways?
Why would a God create such a cancer for its creation?
Are we but play things to it? Little puppets to control? What was our intented use?
We have done nothing in this ecosystem but ruin it, we fight day and day to make the recipient believe our opinions since it's obviously the right one.
Why so many restrictions for us? Is there no more room for adventure that is yet to be lived? Am I supposed to only live to be forgotten? What sick joke this is.

Poem :
Sickness has ruined me, stripped me bare,
This saline solution disrupts, poisons the air.
It stole my pride, my hard-won victory,
Time itself drained, and what's left of me?

Why would a God create such cancer in its plan,
A poison for its own creation, for man?
Are we playthings, little puppets, strings pulled tight?
What purpose do we serve, what is right?

We stumble through this world we scar,
Fighting each day to prove who we are-
To make others see what we see as true,
But what does it matter in the grand view?

Restrictions box us in, endless lines to trace,
Is there no adventure left, no untamed space?
Am I only here to fade and be gone,
Another forgotten soul, lost in the throng?

What a sick joke, this fragile breath,
This fleeting dance with life and death.