Born screaming small into this world-

Living I am.

Occupational therapy twixt birth and death-

What was I before?

What will I be next?

What am I now?

Cruel answer carried in the jesting mind

of a careless God

I will not bend and grovel

When I die. If He says my sins are myriad

I will ask why He made me so imperfect

And he will say 'My chisels were blunt'

I will say 'Then why did you make so

many of me'.

via PoemHunter.