Who Could Of Wrote This? Poem by Bullion Grey

There must be, some where deep inside a kind of designer....perhaps.
An entity that does all our bidding to create the life we asked for, before we were born. This has to be true because our life is the thing that bad fiction is made of. Who could of wrote this? Us. In a fury of delight, being able to look at our last life from the otherside, and rush to the designer of living to suggest our next adventure. Our next trip to the circus of our life to be. Yes, I am convinced that there must be a collborative effort between our own growth needs and an angelic designer. How could it be any other way?