There is a single source to draw one's breath:
To live by stealing life from other souls
To burglarize from them the burning coals
Of lavish life now turned to bitter death.
Prolonging shallow life in all its breadth
Exists to stand an empty, futile goal,
And stands to be our superficial role
To breathe unsanctioned from our guilty breast.
Alas, what bitter ironies remain,
Needing creatures deemed much less than us
To sacrifice themselves for selfish gain;
To die a slighted death for hungry cause.
So carelessly, we dine without refrain
And overlook the being there once was.
*** Note: This is a satire because I got sick of writing it. ***
