Eloi

We harvest them, its true,
But logically they can not form,
The major part of our repasts,
The prey must always outnumber,
The predators, and they are very few,
The time traveller did not discern,
That they provide only the tissues,
That we clone, the sole untainted sources,
From which store, we the long tainted,
We the damaged stock, we the
Genetically wounded. we the dying,
We the cancer-hosts, make all,
Our once human, creations,
In the dark. Our food, our
Household goods, our
Furniture, our diggers,
Our engineers, our
Savants, and our
Gods.