To: The World, B**ch Mother Nature, and whatever Architect may be.

There is nothing here of value, but we know that’s what you intended. Nothing that you can give me, but: by everything did you try to convince me that I needed you. And you succeeded …somewhat. Can’t even say it was hard for you. The form that I come in makes it so easy for you to do what you want with me. The form that I come in makes it so impossible for me to do anything. So there you sit in your narcissistic glee raping me for all that you can get.
But YOU couldn’t get all what you wanted, I’m not completely pulled into your scheme. I don’t go back and forth to a job everyday chasing the stupid things you dangle in front of us. What I want is the ability to rise above you but being in this form denies that absolutely.
I so hate being part of this race, so pathetic that to achieve the tiniest act of creation takes everything this insipid form protests to offer. But at least you didn’t get all of what you wanted from me, I’m not a productive unit in your game, on the fringe I straddle not doting upon you chasing riches and yet avoiding your punishment under a bridge for not licking your nethers.
I should hate you even more than being this pitiful human waste, but it’s that very waste of weakness that allowed you to thrive off of it. You are a product of the B**ch Mother Nature for making us so weak. When we die, so will you, and you’ll have achieved another dead planet.
And there you’ll sit in your narcissistic emptiness until the sun explodes and you are made into nothing, And you’ll be just as forgettable as the human race was designed to be. May the sun burn every inch of your record to oblivion, and may this race and form be taken even swifter, a hateful species made in sick humour, the ultimate evolutionary piss take.

I’ll not beg for an end for that will only give you satisfaction, I’ll stand fast with a middle finger to your faces, you know you’’ll die just like us, and just as pathetic as we are, you too can do nothing about it.