We are so fragile.
We could break at any moment.
God could leave us scattered on the ground
like broken, old, used toys.

God is like a child:
Tsunamis his tantrums.
Humans his marionettes.
Humans    
      are          
             God’s
         voodoo
    dolls.

And he plays with us;
He stitches red needles into our bodies.

I think there is nothing left in mine.
No filling.
No nothing.
I am empty inside.