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Broken Creator
You have found yourself
perched on rooftops and dunes
admiring the subtleties
of your supposed creation
the way hills give way to plains
cities to sprawl order to chaos
You wonder why you are broken
when it is you who can heal all
you wonder how you
lost sight of everything
that has ever been spun by
your deft hands
you wonder whether
the time you have spent building
will ever equal the time you have spent
watching your creations die
And you awake in an empty room
the stripped bed at your left
the propped open door
the hum of other bodies, living beautifully
they will break you down
tell you not to believe in your own existence
and when they are through
they will set you free on your own diorama
You feel their words dripping out your ears
you feel your fragile form
growing weak on drugs that threaten
the very thing they claim to heal
the births and weddings and funerals
continue
the lies and breaks and deafening thuds in the night
continue
while you float along
forgetting
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