To be Human

From day one, it's all about you. You want that toy, that's your teacher, that's the grade you get, that should have been your position, you deserved that raise.

(And you say I'm not human?)

You don't care what you have to destroy, you get what you want. You're spoiled rotten and you know it. You like it. It means you're doing well.

(All I own is myself, but it's more than you'll ever have.)

Even if you act nice, you just want to know they're happy because it makes you happy. Hear that? YOU happy. YOU.

(It's all about you, after all.)

Position means everything in your world. You want to be at the top of the food chain. It's your dream, your ambition. Why should you care that for you to be on top, someone else must be on the bottom?

(You should, but you don't.)

And if you're on the bottom, if you have nothing left, you'll pick up your gun and shoot. You have nothing, so no one else should either. Either way, you have nothing to lose.

(Neither do I.)

If they shoot back, run. Hide. Beg for your pathetic little life. Plead, bargain, scream. After all, you're much too important to die, aren't you.

(Of course you are.)

If you die, no one will care. After all, your just an insignificant little human.

(And you say I'm not human? Thank you.)