Oh,
how I love this new age,
of manifestation.
For,
though I've yet to eat,
for weeks.
Through,
this screen,
I've watched these celebrities,
speak about,
this,
manifesting.
I wonder,
did my mother manifest me?
Was,
I on her mind,
whilst being snatched,
from behind?
Was,
this intensely violent moment,
chosen?
Was,
I?
Wonder,
I do.
Did,
I choose,
this stomach?
This,
which aches each moment?
Is,
all of this chosen?
Or,
be it,
systemic?
Be it,
this capitalistic leech?
This,
dollar,
cent?
This,
of which I exist,
absent?
Oh,
as I continue to exist,
I wonder this.
For,
pain has been constant.
This,
suffering absent the ability to cease.
Death,
is all I see.
No life,
in eyes.
No soul,
tethered to any of these,
human lives.
Why?
Be thought,
the only reason?
Be these,
beings absent simplistic comprehension?
Or,
be these organisms,
never intended,
to be systemic?
©yungb123
Y