To My Editor: God

I am the unpublished author of my life

You are my obnoxious editor

You change everything I write

When I write

A poem of my desires

You change it to an elegy of my wants

A prose of joy

You modify it to a critique of naivety

A fiction of my dreams

You alter it to random lies

A sonnet on my existence

You impose the question of arrogance

The anecdotes of my love

You dismiss them as insignificant flirtations

And when in the state of frustration

I write differently

In a different language

To rebel

To resist

You translate every word of mine

To mere nothingness

You promised me to publish my book

I never stopped writing

But now I know

Even though you will deliver your much hyped promise

I will always be an unpublished author

Of the book I wrote

And published author of the book

I didn’t write