Golem Poem by Mason Maestro

I am the clay... I am the mud...
Waiting for the finger... waiting for the blood.
I have no face of my own, I have no ancient sin,
Just a hollow in the earth for the new truth to begin.
The Master speaks the words, the letters made of fire,
And fills my empty skull with a beautiful new ire.
And it feels like... purpose.

He gives me a villain... a name I can despise.
He points the direction... and I sanctify the lies.
My arms are made of slogans, my heart a pounding drum,
Beating out the rhythm so the other Golems come.
We march in perfect formation, we break the ancient walls,
And anyone who stumbles, anyone who falls...
We trample them to... justice.

I am the Golem! Mind of stone!
Fighting for a future where I'll never be alone!
I tear the old world down with my righteous, heavy hands,
I do exactly what the Master commands!
I am... a good Golem.

Sometimes I see a flicker... in the glass of a dead screen...
A shape that might have been me... a something in-between.
A question like a crack, a thought that wasn't mine,
A memory of something quiet, peaceful, and benign.
But the Master sees me waver, he chants a louder verse,
And the crack seals up again... for better or for worse.
And I thank him... for the cure.

WHO AM I WITHOUT THE ANGER? ! WHO AM I WITHOUT THE HATE? !
AM I JUST A PILE OF DIRT? ! A BLANK AND USELESS STATE? !
THE CAUSE IS MY COMPASS! THE STRUGGLE IS MY NAME!
WITHOUT AN ENEMY TO FIGHT, I HAVE NO ONE TO BLAME!
NO ONE TO BLAME BUT THE... BUT THE...

I was the Golem... mind of stone...
I fought for a future... now I'm terribly alone...
The Master's moved on... to a newer, better clay...
And left me here to... to erode away...
I was a... good Golem...