I Was Born

I was born, I hate this part

Being someone new

Being torn

Seeing someone who died, as you grew

Growing older is killing a child

Who laughed and smiled at anything

Growing colder and less and less wild

And learning to say

I was young, then not so young

Scary either way

One more rung

Down that black ladder every day

One more floor down the elevator

To oblivion, what fun

But the singularly awful one

Is being born