Artificial

  If there is a God, then why have I been forsaken by my own faith? My past is the last thing on my mind, whatever that past holds. Why am I blind from color? Shouldn't I not feel the same as others? Can't I taste the world? Unless someone cuts the strings that limit my ability, I am nothing more but a doll in God's World.

 And still, and still, I am able to see the bright of of a butterfly, and smell a dainty flower. I dwindle for the smallest of reasons, and seethe at my face. I, like the rest of the world, am artificial, and won't last long. 

 I can smile, I can laugh, and I can feel fear. But, I cannot cry, cannot love, but most of all, I cannot feel. The rain joins my thoughts. The only thing connecting the sky and the Earth. But even that is not a miracle. Only a scientific phenomenon of the water cycle. water vapor rises as an invisible gas, up to the clouds, where it freezes or pours down as rain. It is known as the "Staff of Life". But I wonder if anyone has come to my conclusion of it also being the "Scythe of Death"?

 Why am I writing this down? Is it an impulse, or are the voices in my head becoming so overwhelming that I must shut them out and close my mind? Earth is a path trodden by generations, so why do only so few make it into the book? And why is one book, above all else, considered the Law of Life? 

Reviews

[mess of gorgeous chaos]

Love this. Neat work. Your words are powerful.