Confronting Creators

I wish I could tell you the irony
Of hating your perfect, seamless creator,
And loving your heartless, inhuman destroyer.

For when whatever God made the world
He made death and love together,
But left out the assurance of forever.

And my destroyer recognizes me,
And He knows how it feels to be human,
And the desire of knowledge within us.

So He will kill us in total mercy,
Knowing that life is just an excuse
And just a waste of time and death.

And when I die, whatever that means,
I’ll be relieved of a red heart:
The biggest of mistakes of the Creator.

And then I can honestly say,
That life is just a joke, nothing more.
And laugh to the ends of the world.