I've written this poem in realisation that we are all selfish. No matter how much we give to others in need, and no matter how much we think we have sacrificed for others, I doubt there is a person who can call him or herself "purely generous".

  Think about a time when you bought a present for your friend. Were you completely void of the expectation that he or she should give you something in return for your birthday when it came? Would you have given your friend that present if he or she was not your friend? Was the expectation that your friend should treat you with higher value after you bought him or her the present completely absent in your heart? No? Then you're selfish.

  Maybe there was a time when you gave something to charity- clothes, for example- and met all of the criteria above (of expecting nothing in return, expecting no better treatment etc.). Did you really need those clothes? Was your cupboard absent of a single better piece of clothing that you could have donated? Can you really call your act one of "sacrifice"? No? Then you're selfish.

  Perhaps you really did give some of your finest clothes. Did you do it purely out of love? Was your mind completely absent of the thought that when you were through with this, your parents or some other people close to you would think more highly of you? Did you give anything more than just a couple of good clothes? No? Then you're selfish.

  No matter how much we've given, there probably is always something more to give. And unless you have given every single bit of yourself and what you own for the benefit of others, you are a selfish person. Don't feel bad though; nearly everyone who has ever lived was probably a selfish person too. And that's why I've written this poem; to comment about this characteristic that has existed both then (represented from the early modern English I used in the first stanza) and now (represented by the modern English I used in the second stanza). Enjoy reading the poem!