Was I born with a cold heart,
awoken in a world of fear and smart,
frightened by every emotion that got control,
fiercelessly armored,
through walls of the soul.
Abandoned from the lust to live,
terrified by the gift to give,
hope in cases out of hand,
people running circles in the sand,
of time's yielding fiend.
Why won't the heavens, to which I rest,
my case, tell me my purpose, my goal;
To place a stepstone in the piramid,
of our race's task and endless role.
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