I am the creator of the universe

The stars shine at my will

I determine every galaxy’s itinerary

at the palm of my hands lie the jurisdiction of time

 

In this world, a witch places upon the princess, a curse

To which the prince goes on an adventure for the thrill

The defeat of the dragon. Becareful. This round is just preliminary

Happily ever after does not exist in this lifetime.

 

And in another world- in another verse,

As the daffodils bloom on the window sill

She kisses him, as her lips travel without an itinerary

Outside, the children sing nursery rhymes.

 

I wanted to be the creator of the universe.

Slowly giving in to society’s will

Chemical reactions are more substantial than a creative itinerary

Supply and demand is more significant than rhyme

 

And in the caliginosity of the night

accompanied only with textbook terms and mathematical drills

The clock ticks by as my eyes grow weary

and exhaustion overtakes my heart in time

 

I see visions of myself cemented between grey cubicles

tapping away at a keyboard just to pay my bills

when all of happiness has been suctioned out of my soul, dreary,

unable to claim anything as truly mine

 

When did I let this abomination happen?

When hard shelled facts numbed my senses,

and killed the child inside of me whose

love and curiosity for the world never ceased to end?

 

Because in reality, I still wanted to create,

to let these stories fill

every crevice of my being. Clearly,

I still wanted to be the creator of the universe.