National Poetry Month: Poem 4
Because the world did not bestow upon you special privileges.
Because you are not precious.
Because you are made of nothing more than blood, skin, cells, hope and disillusions like everyone else.
Because no matter what the horoscopes and fortune tellers say, you never know where life will take you.
Because you are human.
Because you are meant to live.
Because you were made to feel every joy and every pain this life has to offer.
Pain, no matter how devastating, at least means you are alive.
Because you were meant to become attached.
Because you were meant to learn to let go.
Because you were created to be destroyed.