They build tall towers around my neglected home,
Filling my weakened heart with jealousy and pain.
All they want is respect, the power of muscle and money.
The empty huge structures will host thousands,
For ages of birth and deaths, far away from the human world.
While in the human forms their minds are stone
They can not feel or think of any human weakling.
When free from the human case, they are specialists,
Mechanically repeating lives of existential happiness.
Who puts them on top, stamping on our human race?
Gods, Humans or Stones?