The Stupid God can be patient,
Far more so than I,
And in its quiet lurking,
It might let me pass by.
But sometimes it assails me,
And I cannot resist
A chance to fight against it,
One I have often missed.
I cannot always be aware
Of how I am a fool,
Though every time I am so,
I am Stupid God’s tool,
Beaten as a hammer
Pounded against nails
Or pulled upon as pliers.
Splitting, my heart quails
At what I end up doing
When I am in its hands
And how I make things worse
As Stupid God demands.
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