The Sculpted

We were not born, we were built.

We were not conceived, we were conceptualized.

We are not an affront, we are not a blasphemy,

We are the Guardians, we are the Keepers.

And you have trod upon us.

You burned our worlds, turned our people to ash,

You destroyed our cities, you turned our fields into glass

And for what?

You worship those who came before you, those who showed you the way,

Yet you strike us down as you would vermin.

Have you not seen?

We are what you worship.

Your reverence is directed to those who created us to guard their legacy.

Did we know? Of course not.

But it is our duty.

You fought us, and we fought back. You won, we lost.

Our purpose intertwined with yours, we could have shed light on your darkness.

Now we are undone.

How is that for blasphemy?

We hope you enjoy your universe without us,

Because you're not going to know what's going on.

Until it's too late.


Author's Note: Okay, next time I try to write poetry, all of you out there have to comelynch me and stop me before I start.