A lesser man would shun his creator,

raise high his fist to the heavens above

and curse the cruelty underlying

this joke of an excuse passed off as a gift, as life.

This is no life but rather a purgatory.

we are waiting for the trigger to pull, waiting

for the film to reach its end

with that annoying fluttering noise that it makes

and the lights to boast the bright white

like that of an angel’s robe,

but here they do not walk.

& like marionettes these strings are constantly

pulled to and from,

tugging with whiplashed intensity until

there is no other choice but to bow remaining;

upon your knees before the king, the creator,

and give sacrifice and thanks for th...

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