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?