When babies are born, why do they cry?
They know, unlike when they grow up, that their life ahead will be full of suffering.
I cried like them,
But my suffering isn't later...
Has my suffering decided to start tormenting me so early on?
Concentrating on what is supposedly supposed to be the most important and enjoyable part of my life?
Why now and why me?
If so many people believe in a merciful god, why is he never there when you truly need him?
My Suffering
Did you like this poem? Write one of your own!
