Made In P.R.C Poem by Nick Kler

I'm constantly sweeping
Tiny crumbs of my fate
Little here, little there
Burnt out everywhere!

Never knew when I received
It was made in China
Only sign It had on it
Was withering away
It said something like
'Made in P.R.C'

Completely Incompatible
With every strain of my life
Coded in a strange format
As if it was made
For some distant planet
Some different kinda life

It seems to me as if
God has turned into
Outsourcing as well