He's what we call our savior
the creator of life
misery, hate, violence
are what he gave us
yes, happy things exist also
but when all you remember are the tears
and have forgotten how to smile
you start despising him
that happiness you might feel
will soon die
and god just sits in his freakin chair
up there in the sky
watching you struggle
and not daring to help you
we ask him why he kills
and he answers:
My world is too good for them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem