the question

I ask this to the world:
Though a restatement made many a time.
Yet disregard our leisure of doubt.
After all we are only human.
Divided by thought and religion.
Yet bought together in times of need
I look about to no avail at the answer,
For why is it so?
How is it a race built off of each other's flesh?
Find a purpose to exist?
Why is it?
That we as a race can overcome anything
But divided as a government we achieve so little?
Why is it?
That green slips of paper of no real significance,
Can end a life?

What are we?
Are we beasts?
Bought forth to a primitive state,
Where piles of paper control our actions?
Where we supposedly elect an Alfa to lead our well-being?
What is it?
That gives them the rite to control us?
What are we?
To gain from pointless bloodshed,
Ending lives
Killing thoughts,
Ideas
Our future?
What are we?