Letter to God
dear god
how little i feel
about myself
despite your claim
that i am the top
of your creation
a little virus
would kill me off
i feel mysellf
a plaything
your plaything
a toy, a puppet
and the world your stage
with my role written
where i should play out my part
talk about freewill?
is there one?
one plus one equals two
an empty stomach
does not have free will
to choose?
a woman with
near dead child at her hands
knows free will is spoken
only by the gods
in their written scripts
to enliven their puppets
to act out
i know too after all
the theatrical parts
like a buffalo led by the noose
i will be torn out
of existence
as you plan your next play
like the sun
that comes after heavy rain
the land cleaned of its dirt,
where fresh breeze blows
i am but then
would be lost
in existence
consciouness
torn to shreds
to get your next
theatre going
not a trace of mine
would be left
on this stage
where i had acted out my part
with flesh, blood and soul
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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