There are a great many things I've wanted to ask of you, whoever or whatever you are. Some far more poignant than others. What I really want to know are questions pertaining to us, your creations, and what you intended for us to do with this thing we call Free Will. Deeper than that, I want you to explain why you made me as I am, why you place people in my path, and ask things of me which I have not the power or the courage to perform. Why did you gift me with the perception to see into the heart of things, and the conviction that I MUST make right that which is wrong. I look around everyday and am astonished at the contradictions in this world. This schizophrenic society we've built upon the ashes of an idea horrifies me with it's multitude of messages, it's towers built on the illusion that we ARE what we OWN, and that worth is measured in stock. If we aren't beautiful, we can pay to be so, if we aren't smart, we can pay others to be smart for us, if we are not brave, we can hire others to die for us. There is so much beauty all around us, yet we've abstracted existence into sections of time, allotments of economic calculations instead of living, breathing humanity. But that's not what I'm angry about. I'm angry that you've made me in such a way that I can't function very well in "everyday life". I saw hell in the eyes of a beautiful **** Addict, the truth of her squalid life behind the veneer of beauty and calm and power she presented only a few hours before. This person had what our society tells us we must have in order to be happy. Clearly, we are missing something if Miss Beautiful Blonde **** Head had to find some kind of feeling in that. And make no mistake, there's very few illegal substances that I haven't forced upon my body at one time or another, and it disgusts me that I have to partake of a drug in order to be able to speak to people without hiding behind some kind of armour. But it's a lie, it's fake, just as the society we created is a lie. I would give everything to be able to have understood this when I was fifteen and could have started this journey differently. But it was not to be so, for whatever reason I, and so many others, are empty vessels on this sea. All those weeping, wounded hearts you placed before me and commanded me to heal, when my own was broken. I hate you for that. I reject this existence, this scramble for position and power atop a mountain of rags and orphans. I deny the Will to Power. And to the world you allowed us to create, the world that eats living ghosts and plastic *******, that learned how to burn whole populations away....to this world I will always say "NO".
I have to translate this from prose into a poem.