It did it to torture us,
Create something to quench our thirst,
Preying on innocent minds,
It was craving something new.
So It spun webs,
Of many different sorts,
Placing beings on them to collect,
Gather, feed, and lie.
The beings of the webs,
Each strung a single silver thread to the ground,
Attracting poor creatures,
That only lived to follow one another.
The threads whispered secrets,
Of worlds that waited for them,
Promised eternal happiness and power,
The beings whispered to them putrid lies.
So one after another,
The creatures climbed these sacred strings,
Blindly into the darkness,
Illuminated by imaginary light.
Once they reached the top,
The beings waited with dripping fangs,
Hungry for those stupid creatures,
Easy meals with gullible minds.
Then suddenly the promises of blessings and riches,
Were dissolved once the beings fed,
But no other creature knew of these massacres,
So the creatures climbed, and climbed, and climbed.
The creator of this chaos,
Watched and feasted on what the beings brought,
And It kept spinning more webs,
Luring more and more to their doom.
It grew stronger,
Creating and planting these thoughts in these creatures’ thoughts,
It was too easy for the webs to grow and entangle them,
They find themselves trapped in a wiry mess.
Religion was It’s name.