Big Recycling Bin

I bear in me the scars of years past Of days that lived before my birth My birthmarks are the scars of my forebears A reminder: freedom is not free, freedom is pain Those are the words of my scars I was in the first drop of water I lived in the first flame of fire I felt the first pain of disobedience Died the first death I've always been part of the caravan I traveled with history. My anger is not mine But of innocent victims Of bloodshed and epidemics Anger induced by pollution and corruption Born out of the tears of infant mortality Of civil unrest and injustice Of plagues like COVID I have always lived in times The first flood, the crucifixion Crusades and jihads I lived through slavery and apartheid I saw revolutions If you've seen all these too You'll see my point of view The world is one big recycling bin.