Poetry i thought of

i dont know how i am supposed to create worlds

build them up with my entire heart

inject love and soul and culture into them

give them life and being and hope

when in the end i'm expected to pull the strands at their ends

and unravel the floor beneath them

crumbling and castcading as they fall

leaving them in the depths of despair and destruction

only to wrap it neatly with a bow

and call it a book.

..//..

how do you play God

and minimize your efforts as so effortlessly

your love as so disconnected

your pain as not your own

and be expected to watch your people burn

without God too, shedding a tear