Even the bruised-fruit in the bowl 

wants to jump out of its skin,

and the kitchen wishes it was an outdoor patio,

and the rug is tired of getting stepped on, 

and the building sometimes wishes it was never built. 

And even God denies his own existence; 

feeling useless in all that heaven 

with nothing at all to do 

but keep an awful eye on His world, 

which wishes so much that it wasn't.