A Title of Pretention

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You cannot exist if this is all in my head
I am the Builder and you are not real

I am the Builder, and you are not here

Like clay, I have shaped you to your form. I have set your feet in the earth. I have watered you and because I have done so, you have Grown.

But you are not real.

You are wicked flowers and weeds.
You are the flowers and yet the bugs
The bugs that destroy my work.

I have lost my pity because you set yourselves on fire.
And yet I have no pity, because you are not real.

There is no matter to this matter.
There is no mass to the masses.
There is no weight to my soul.

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