Morning Grace, poetry by Theodora Oniceanu at
Matthew Henry

Morning Grace

Morning Grace

written by: Theodora Oniceanu



Morning after morning, testing my powers of acceptance,
This virtual world in which the reason seems pure hate:
A game in which you know you can win by getting your hands stained,
Spilling the codes for blood every now and then –
A little complex world in which you are trapped,
And you wish you were rather dead and all knowing,
Not a complete fool and a failure,
They put you there, your gods:
They like to mock their warriors, have them compete, prove their skills,
But you know you have a family and you are the symbol of the hero everyone would like to be,
You know that!
And you hate yourself for being trapped there, where they are making of you a star,
A symbol, a great figure: The Hero
Who saved their selves from hell.

But as you kill, getting bored with the options day by day,
You find time to meditate
A lot – but it is always too little,
Your thirst to seek answers growing,
And you ask yourself: Why?
Why am I doing all this!?
Where will I go after I finish this fight?
Perhaps to another fight or maybe
I will have time to become something else:
My monsters defeated,
Pictures are taken to remind me of the great person I was
To save my skin
From the test of some mocking gods.

Getting tired, as the work was on high-speed a request,
Meditating upon things: what all this for?
I still have to do this and I don’t understand: Do they want to suffer more?
No, they do not like to provoke us more suffering!
I think that’s why. It isn’t in their genes! It isn’t the search for a reason…

All this fight! For what?
If I made a mistake I have to pay.

And I kill, I kill each day,
Digital monsters and humans and vain, vain characters,
And cuteness and fun and life – I kill.
Knowing that all this is garbage, still, I kill;
Why do I have to?

Morning of the past that felt good,
Today I am creating another character – it’s been a while!
Garbage to be abused,
And I’d rather abuse only a code,
I’d rather abuse a machine,
I’d rather destroy an idea than the real thing:
Oh, but the mistake.
It is like this that they can still use the stupid,
The weak,
The little boys and girls out there,
The real…
But I am a courageous right and just angel.

And I still believe that like this I am doing much better:
Monsters killed to finish their internal suffering
And craving for blood,
The beast needs flesh, and we know it,
On and on, bleeding,
Knowing that it’s for the good cause!
How many not to be blamed did you take
Deep down in the grounds that hate me not
For not falling in love with worms and flies and putrid flesh…

And Robots and Codes can live and die easier than human beings,
They simply die here but keep existing elsewhere,
Reflecting the life that spills light instead of blood
And makes sparkles happen in the dark,
A sign of forgiveness, perhaps,
Or the rage that you still exist? Elsewhere?
To seek and find…
The tearing eyes!

I wish you knew a better world than theirs,
I wish, I wish… I never hated you…
maybe that is why I didn’t do everything to take you there
To see, the future of your partnership –
I guess that he couldn’t take it anymore…
Why did you have to offer life?
A good life: why not enjoy?

I wish you knew a better world than theirs…
How else to win? How else to win: killing the ones who attack you?
Defying the ones that put you through the test?
Haven’t they asked for it?

I wish you knew… how to respect yourself
Instead of pleasing them – it is what gives them the right to mock you
And take you to dishonour.

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