I Was Born
I was born, I hate this part,
being someone new,
being torn, seeing someone who died as you grew.
Growing older is killing a child
who laughed and smiled at anything,
growing colder and less and less wild,
and learning to sing.
I was young, then not so young:
scary either way.
One more rung down that black ladder every day.
One more floor down the elevator
to oblivion, what fun,
but the singularly awful one
is being born.
