On the night, this night, I created the being.
I was careful, cautious, and oh so tender.
I scoured beforehand, and hacked
decayed, yet beauteous body parts.
Perfect they were, in my head
it was pure genius.
I of all people, found a way
to conjure up a new and profound way to
bring back to life which was in purgatory.
Indeed, it was soon a mistake;
to revive a creature so hideous,
I was the father, the creator of morbid death.
Why have I, me, tested what God has
set upon this Earth?
Nay, if God can create beauty and life,
then I can precipitate hellish beasts.
It was alive!
It was beautiful. Beautiful!
No. He was grotesque.
You could see slivers of muscles,
mustard skin, torn and misconstrued.
Oh God! What have I done?
I could not look at this, this beast before me.
It sickened me to the core;
so hideous it was.
Poor creature, he was not good to last.
I doth not see with my eyes.
So blind was I, this wretch, this hellhound;
my God! you should have seen him.
Construed was myself.
I dashed to my solitary cell,
hiding from that monster.
If only I didn’t create so repulsive a creature.