Lifetimes

Soulless beings unborn lifetimes past, stuck into the wombs of cordial yet trivial women;
vanished in the midst of where identities are never formed, birth cursed men and women that wanders through life lost without the guidance of their rightful ancestors—lifetimes too late.
Found and adopted by the rejected nomads of the earth, only to die eternally to their truth.
We weep now, bitterly.
For we are rejected once again, firstly by life, and now through spirituality…
It is He that devours our vulnerability… the devil that stores his soul in my family.
We know no god, earnestly, not even the fiend that puppeteers me.

Who will we be?
Who will I be?

Lifetimes gone, and I have this—a blank memory.
Have I willfully forgotten?
Today, compassion and empathy burns brightly in my vicinity.
Yet nothing human can reach me.
I cannot know your thirst, or your hunger.
I cannot know your pain… for some thing does not allow me.
I cannot shed a tear, for your lost hope of this day, or unimagined hope for your tomorrow.
You cannot depend on me, for humanity
I can only see me peripherally.
I am my own, selfishly.

Over and again, fatigued with repetition, I am roaming through past lives subsisting on divinity;
Regurgitating righteously.
In our today, deviltry weaves through my creativity.
I generate wicked words and roads to crude eternities—helplessly.
You know what it is that owns me.
He (me) who use to laugh centuries ago, with the salt of the earth,
now frowns down upon it.
Am I meant to imagine and own for me great royalty; to look above and beyond?
When what lies before me speaks more than truly, but fatefully.
Failing clumsily, I live exhaustively in misery.
My ancestry has ruined me!
Why was I not born when I was meant to be?