Is it not enough to own the world?
Must you devour us too?
Must you hamstring us, command us, and run us through?
For us to exist, MUST we be made of you?
Must we be your image? Owe you homage, too?
What have you made then? For what is a mind?
If tied, harangued, coerced, beneath binds?
What did you seek then? To hear your own words?
So don't hate me if I doubt that your voice was heard
Because if you gave me this mind which knows
Lies from truth, by which seam shows
Then how can you hate me and see me slain
When you built this heart, these limbs, this brain?
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