God
What a name, God the superior being.
Since the beginning of time man has looked upon him,
For comfort, for a sense of security,
And yet when the impossible happens,
Man despises him and his works.
Some say everything happens for a reason,
And that we’re bound by destiny,
A word which has long sense lost its meaning.
When you are born, there is nothing.
Your life is a blank sheet of paper,
Clean no marks, no misspelled words.
As time grows thick things appear on the paper,
You create your own destiny; no one does it for you.
All you are given is a piece of paper, you choose what happens with that paper,
It either stays clean, or it is dirty,
No humans’ paper is clean,
You are given one piece of paper.
Do as you will with it,
Because if there is a god,
That paper is your only hope.