God created man in His image.
Man created me in his image.
Man was given freedom.
I was not.
I was sewn into existence,
Alive, but inanimate.
Confused, inquisitive, but hopeful.
As soon as the last thread was attached
I was crucified,
Like a reverse Messiah,
Meant to drive creatures away
With my presence.
It is all in vain.
I am here, paralyzed,
A neo-Prometheus.
My insides have become the nests of many families,
And as they grow, I shrink.
From my damned spot,
I see the farmer shooting at some poor child
Who wandered by mistake in his land.
God created Man in His image.
Man created me in his image.
God doesn’t own a shotgun.
Man does.
Sometimes I wish that I did too,
And that would be the end of me,
And I’d go back to the way I was before,
Uncreated.
