A house of hay is surely meant to fall In this cruel world your only companion is yourself The rest are just pretenders You attract moths when your light is the brightest These moths swarm you like your tears breed gold and your sweat gives fortune This world built on principles of dominance and oppression is sometimes called God's perfect creation? The very notion of it being God's perfect creation is already baffling, this is in a way that makes my eyes water This world which thrives on the exploitation of the weak is called God's creation? If truly there is a higher power he must svorf at the pietism of humans But yet by some strange coincidence I find strength to carry on To mask my suffering and wait for the day I get to see the perfection of this world To meet the Higher power and have questions quenched...