Were we brought to life to change?
To change the world we used to know?
Society claims to accept all of us, yet it's strange,
How we end up changing to make our own little show.
Born to live the way we wish to,
Told to have a life filled with love, happiness and no regrets,
Yet as time goes by, we think of things we only wish to undo,
And that is just about the life we'll get.
However, we have our own minds for choices,
We are not at the mercy of others of our kind,
We can scream and shout in our own voices,
A little chance to be redefined.
At the end of our lines,
We cry and hurt and mourn,
Death's touch always lingering with dark signs,
Our own selves broken, beaten and worn.
Unpredictable and surprises at every door,
Our lives unparalleled to many millions around us,
We were born fortunate and good, and so we swore,
To do good in life for others without success.
Along the line we forget,
And the thought will diminish without reminder,
Few to stand and recognize, but only few silhouettes,
A promise every year to be a person kinder.
But at Death's touch, we will think and regret,
Yet isn't that how all our lives will end?
When we must go, there is nothing to forget,
No rules left for us to bend.
We all begin the same,
And we will all end alike,
Our lives were ours to claim,
Not others' fault for any dislike.
A life only some receive,
A chance to chance one little thing,
It is us who must work to create a life others disbelieve,
Just to be ended - happily or not - by a cut piece of string.
