a mind, still generating and formulating, adding and subtracting ideals
wrong and rights have no place, as perception stimulates with new emergence
the product brought forth being but a human child, an offspring of covet and lust and desire
already equipped with the knowledge of a thousand suns, and an unbiased judgment of it\'s kin
a clean slate, tainted through the millenniums, by brothers and sisters of their own calculations
as one becomes the making of many, whispers of times before erase the probability of ever becoming thine own self
and as years go by, we lose sight of who we were, before time ever had a chance to conceive us
and we sit here in confusion, as the voices taunt us from the grave, wishing for a time when we could be nothing but ourselves