Ok. I made this poem for several reasons.
Reason #1: My friend and his girlfriend were going to have a baby. She was already pregnant and all. But her family has this natural disorder in their genes, so the kid was going to be born with a handicap of some sort. So instead of them being happy with their special child (who was so far 3 months into its gestation) they decided to have it aborted. As of yet, im still waiting for news on whats happening.
Reason #2: Im kind of a misanthrop. I really don't like what humans are doing to the world or themselves. Their basically killing themselves in the slowest way, and all the while they ask, "How did this happen?". Im in a sound proof room laughing so hard im expecting my eye balls to dislodge from their sockets. I really agreed with how Agent Smith; from The Matrix movies, saw the human race. He saw them as a parasite/sickniss to the world.

Those two reasons have one thing in common though. When the world ends, and we are suffering from it all. The dead will be the lucky ones because they won't have to go through what we will.