The Narcissist in the Room

If there’s a “god” we cannot see,

At what point did they agree,

“It’s cool to be heartless fools,

And let innocent lives be used as tools”?

Picture the gates up in the sky,

Where God pulls out a list, asks why,

“Jimmy, you ate meat all your life,

Paid mass murderers, with blood on the knife,

Carving out souls, wrecking countless lives.”

And you think when you arrive,

God says, “Welcome, come inside,

You prayed in church, so all’s okay,

But did you pray for those who’d pay?”

For the innocent ones, who suffer in pain,

Their lives tortured, all in vain.

You pray for your child to have a great life,

While others endure endless strife.

Do you really think creatures were put here to die,

So your child could live, and you could fly high?

And if your child doesn’t have a great life,

Suddenly, it’s unfair—now there’s the knife.

Why is it fair for them to be slaughtered,

But not for your child, who you’ve nurtured and watered?

Are we seeing the narcissist in the room?

Pretending all’s fair as we dance with doom?

by Heidi Millar