Created, Copied, Or Born Poem by Logan Fulk

Am I a creator or a destroyer?
Is there anything really there
That wasn’t there before
If so guide me there and show me
I walk a path of question
Questioning my existence
Questioning the path I walk upon
The stability of my curiosity
Is the object I behold unique
Or a copy of something I beheld
Was it created from the tears and blood
Or just born from the things we found
These hands have made many things
Yet there are things they cannot make
For there are things my mind can’t create
Because these things are born mistakes
Nothing should just exist
For then existence means no return
For something created from nothing
Is a life they did not earn
Yet tampering with fates desire
Is something done through generations
A life created in a fire.
A universal tare without reparation.