I am made entirely of flaws, stitched together by good intentions.

The road to Heaven seemed like a dead-end.

Indebted my soul to a toxic deity,

Whose jealousy isolates me—

Everyone is an enemy.

He tells me he has a thousand celestial eyes—

That he will know if I build temples for other gods.

I am made in his image:

An ego as high as the Tower of Babel,

Heart as fragile as the walls of Jericho.

Slaughtered me like a lamb for wearing wolf’s skin,

Hung in the butchery window

As if to tell the world:

Look at my craftsmanship!

Give yourself over to the machine—

You’ll realize humanity is its own hell.