Artificial

By Andrew R. Duckworth

In our very worst moment
We behaved like we were gods
And forged a counterfeit
That looked and behaved like us.
But it was not us.
It was a facade,
Not flesh and blood.
But that facade expanded,
Stretched its veins in all avenues,
Created highways and bypassed us-
A power unimaginable, uncontrollable.
A power unstoppable.

The irony, oh how odd.
We were the godless creating a god.