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I am a Scarecrow, but good God knows how much I wish I were a human being. But good God is cruel, and you must only bow to His will.
I exist, but who explains what it means to exist? Who explains what the existence of a straw mannequin dressed in your human clothes is?
The enemy crows, I envy them. They fly, and I, a poor Christ, am supposed to scare them. Why? Explain to me. What is fear? But is there a need for me to create fear?
I am a poor being exploited to make the harvest richer. Rich with little money. This hellish life for little money.
I curse you, human being. I am now marked, but realize that all you superior beings are scarecrows and you haven't realized it yet.
They dress you, place you where they want, you behave as they tell you, they point out the enemy crows.
At least I have the hope that a fire will burn me.
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