Thanks, pain,
For your company.
Lest I would be lonely- and
My time tedious.
You make me feel kindred
With the faceless people of the world
Who otherwise would only be
Nameless others-
Unknown, distant.
My diary pages you fill
With something to reminisce.
You are a blunt weapon
In the hands of a worthless god,
helping to reassure himself
of his godliness.
You only expose
His low tastes
Indulging in purposeless foolery of creation.
While an unthought thorn
Pricks my foot on the grass
I curse Satan
For his mistaken villainy.
An unfortunate Satan and a lucky God
Make this world spicy.
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