I was created with love and passion, for those who are willing to learn about and appreciate me. My creator spent so much time perfecting me, and that’s what I am, perfection. I saw my refection in his eyes, and his expression matches the beauty I am that he created. I love my creator, and my creator is most proud of me.
I hung in godly glory, on the heavenly white walls of his home, in a place where I would be most noticed and worshiped. All who entered through the tall double doors first stepped into the muticolors of the light I cast upon them. I made them look all the more beautiful, as their eyes stared, in wonder and awe up at me.
Every celebration they made, they made in my name. And my creator, who was always there as proud of me as he always has been. I love my creator, he made me perfect.
My love for him shined down proudly from dawn until dusk. Until they came, and took him away. I lost my faith in him, my creator, when he left me alone. I was covered up and taken down from the walls that I had called home. All that I knew so well disappeared, when there was a sound of wood sliding on hard floors into a box that I fit into perfectly.
I didn’t understand why my creator left me; I thought he was proud of me. They put me in a room with others like me, others who were made also with perfection. More people came and saw me, but they never praised me like they did before. Most of them were more interested in the others, and gave me only a simple glance.
We were all lined up on the walls of the wide rectangular room just like abandoned puppies at the pound. They put all of us behind thick glass, making us prisoners, and taking away from our beauty, and preserved us so we would live forever. My creator abandoned me to this fate. I’ll never experience death. I hate my creator, because he made me perfect.