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Description
A slave wonders whether all humans are the way they are. The way they are - and I wonder how he feels. I wonder if the slave will grow more and more bitter and cynical from each driving crack of the whip, from each laboursome intake of oxygen, from each doorway of hope slammed flat in his face. Such thoughts paralyze my visions of life, deflecting them from the purpose and true meaning of all that exits; all that has; all that will. A paralysis much like that of an unwanted stranger, there is no escape.

I am a cruel human being; as all human beings are. We get pleasure from materialistic desire and feel no pain for the loss of others; (the human race, after all, was designed to kill. Once again, nevertheless, I am straying my thoughts to another realm of philosophy, so I will continue.)
We may show a mere lie/half-truth of sympathy at times, but despite this; it is quite impossible to empathise what it is like for this slave, as no soul has ever or will ever feel what he has.

The intellect I bear is no more than a distraction, however. It prevents me from seeing what lies beneath words and literature. I plead ignorance to the outside world, and, much like the slave - know nothing of what true pain and love is. This is my life; I have food, comforts; and the general commodities needed for survival. I take this for granted as the slave takes his one last footstep of freedom for granted, (before being killed by an angry slave-driver, might I add). Although he feels lucky for this, the nameless stranger, who may or may not exist, knows there is much more to life than just one footstep. He has a lust for more.

I wonder if I am the same. Think on this.

Description
A slave wonders whether all humans are the way they are. The way they are - and I wonder how he feels. I wonder if the slave will grow more and more bitter and cynical from each driving crack of the whip, from each laboursome intake of oxygen, from each doorway of hope slammed flat in his face. Such thoughts paralyze my visions of life, deflecting them from the purpose and true meaning of all that exits; all that has; all that will. A paralysis much like that of an unwanted stranger, there is no escape.

I am a cruel human being; as all human beings are. We get pleasure from materialistic desire and feel no pain for the loss of others; (the human race, after all, was designed to kill. Once again, nevertheless, I am straying my thoughts to another realm of philosophy, so I will continue.)
We may show a mere lie/half-truth of sympathy at times, but despite this; it is quite impossible to empathise what it is like for this slave, as no soul has ever or will ever feel what he has.

The intellect I bear is no more than a distraction, however. It prevents me from seeing what lies beneath words and literature. I plead ignorance to the outside world, and, much like the slave - know nothing of what true pain and love is. This is my life; I have food, comforts; and the general commodities needed for survival. I take this for granted as the slave takes his one last footstep of freedom for granted, (before being killed by an angry slave-driver, might I add). Although he feels lucky for this, the nameless stranger, who may or may not exist, knows there is much more to life than just one footstep. He has a lust for more.

I wonder if I am the same. Think on this.