A precise science comes with playing God.
Cold metal, concrete - a sterile world
built row upon steel row, yet these tests note
we can calculate the meaning of life.
If it fits our purposes, we're all in.
Abstract bellows and high-pitched yelps of pain
linger mid-air. Still, it's more of a pain
finding an alternative. Let's ask God
which of his creatures he favors. Peek in
on his Guinea Pigs, their atrocious world-
and the penalty for being born? Life.
Think back to high school - passing a quick note
to the girl with too much make-up to note
that her pristine face was sculpted from pain,
but Cover Girl has her covered for life,
never forcing her to question why God
isn't punishing these acts. A veiled world-
might equals right, justifiable in
the name of science. Hidden away in
rooms unseen by the public eye. A note
of betrayal released into the world
through a mouth lacking English skills, but "pain"
is universal. Evolution? God?
Whatever force brought these animals life
must see that there's no way to call this life.
I doubt Kermit is happy with this. In
fact, how could he not be enraged? My God!
Can we cure this blindness? Make people note
mass-murder occurs to produce our pain
killer, sleep-inducer, Prozac choked world.
Not a single voice is lifted! This world
isn't big enough apparently. Life
created to be destroyed. Forget pain-
nonexistent. "Vivisection is, in
the end, worth it," the masses cry. Take note
of this sentiment. Could I speak to God
I'm positive he'd beg to differ. Then in
sprawling scribbles along canvas we'd note
how to permanently end this. Thank God.