I hate pretentious poetry, but this really happened a few minutes ago and this is what ran through my head, so here it is.

Dammit. I stepped on a snail today.
He didn't do anything wrong.
I had nothing against him.
I never even noticed him until he was dead.

If I had seen him,
if I was paying attention,
I would have stopped.

But I didn't, and his feeble armor
was pulverized by my weight.
And his brief existence
came to an end beneath my shoe.

Is that what it means to be mortal?
Is this how God feels when he steps on a man?

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