How could I kill my god,
He who created me in this sin?
How could I turn and slaughter you,
When you’re the closest I have to kin?
Let me ask you something,
You divinity in mortal guise,
Do you think yourself as God the creator,
Or Satan, the master of lies?
You birthed me from the charnel-house,
And the rotting flesh of the grave,
But still in all my misery I choose your life to save.
For how could I kill my god with the hands that he gave life?
How could I merely murder he who bore me to this strife?
This is the last poem after Frankenstein for some time. The title quote actually comes from a stage adaptation of the work, and is what the Monster says in response to Frankenstein’s challenge on the mountain that the Monster is, presumably, there to kill him. If I am totally honest, I didn’t particularly like the adaptation, since it changed several things which were rather better unchanged, but that’s merely personal opinion. The company I went to the play in was rather better than the play itself – always a readily compensating state of affairs. Anyway, I will leave you here, for now.
The Hapless Neo-Romantic