Souls Are Tiny Little Stones

i don't know what life really is supposed to be.
i'm not sure if i even have an idea.
it's just sort of weird, everything really;
i mean are we supposed to be happy?
experience pain, like this unusual man told me,
finding meaning through tragedy
surviving and becoming a bit softer.
but how is it then, that some become harder?
rougher? sharper?
more dangerous.
or are those, just the actual
monsters
and demons
of this world?
how else could you explain;
a man with a gun,
tearing down the youth in schools.
innocents, not yet smoothed
out
or roughed up
by the tragedy of the world.
innocent.
silent.
what was their life supposed to be?
i don't think this was it.