Being made a little lower than angels,they pled their dissatisfaction.Bent on defiling the image of their creation,they chose instead to become demons.Like a predator waiting for its prey,they lurk in the shadows of their insecurities.Only that their victims they deem not preys—but things favored to have flesh,like them.Yet, all mankind do is compliment their creed;we call them humans.They are not!Would a man born of love or feelingsearch the hearts of another with glinting steel?Or a being of the image of Godwatch insatiable flames rap on singeing fleshand still pray for fresh crops and fertile seasons?How can a man walk, eat—or livewhen the heartbeats of another is to himas fire to a rhino?Unsolicited, they swear to feed the grave,even though it will never be satisfied;even though, in their rage, they see notthat their children will grow in its belly-depth.They are blinded!Will man ever pauseto thinkto breatheto live?When will these ones recognize thatthe loss of a life may one day be the doom of humanity?When will these demons realize thatthe essence of a life may one day save mankind?O tell me, when?We’ve jilted the Love that formed usand embraced darkness,our only separation from them;these ones found it good.God made manand man fled the light.