Lucid creative thoughts engage me.
So I stitch and seal your eyes shut,
And put you inside this terrible hut.
I want you to pray and obey.
My unconditional love is ugly and grey.
For this whole world is made to portray,
My own thoughts; a bouquet of decay.
Vicariously I watch you, running about.
Lost in this illusion, with your own thoughts.
And now the responsibility is on you,
To break away and make it through.
My sons and forms descend upon,
Some are loved, others frowned upon.
For they are none but messengers of my name,
Demanding atrocities and devotion in my name.
I make your life fickle and fluctuate,
So that you contemplate and meditate,
On the meaning of your existence,
Starved for knowledge's subsistence.
I now look back at what I have done,
Remorse, guilt for I have none.
Pleasure from watching your dismay and sway,
Is what makes me happy and gay.
Your whole life is meant to be a game,
A bunch of lies twined around my name.
I expect you to find pleasure in this slavery,
Or repeat forever in your ocean of misery.
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