God's Flaw

Absolute as an entity

Not in form

While He paints

The colours stick to his curls.

What's the point in painting

It blue and green

When my creations will dwell in sleep

Forget about the goodness and the breeze.

What's the harm in creating pain?

When my children will love a dime more

Than the lips they felt

The earth shall stay barren painted in brown and frail.

Why shouldn't He create bread that only

People with dime can have

The course of freewill has to part

Time is a lullaby only in your mind

What's the love that he paints all

His brushes with?

Where's the fun in creating a flock

Of dead sheep

Amidst agony, paychecks and capitalistic deeds?