You
Are
Nothing
And yet
As I proclaim you so
You BECOME something

Where are the Gods?
I, your creator!

You're
Humbled
Kneeling
Devoutly
Supplicating thyself
In an END of all Endings

My Nightmares bore you
And I abhor you still
The urchin of my imagining
What ill conceived notions bring?

Stumbling
Seeking crumbs
So prematurely sucking thumbs

Would that you find your way
To an Occultists' enclave
Sweet treats awaiting
Wants and needs, abating

For
Though I hate
I cannot uncreate...

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Chronos, in the year 641 AF.