When the Lord split the adam
It wasn't a clean cut.
A heftier half received the whole,
The other a supplicant for scraps at the
Table's Wayside.
(only if it didn't want those stinky leftovers
anyway)

Eons since, not much's changed
The portlier portion still retains
Rights to nuke the other slice
When enmity sticks its foot in the
Meaty muck of the mind

"But it's not my fault," it says,
Still blaming that little snake it likes to hold
Like a teddy bear on a forlorn night

What God hath torn,
Let mankind reassemble.