When the credits finally
Roll for this, the
Worst story ever
Told, don't bother
Sifting through the names
For yours or anyone you know
Unless they were by chance a shepherd king
A virgin birth, a resurrection, a messianic prince or some such childish thing
You can storm the edit suite
Or move to block its theatrical release
But I think we can safely guarantee
There will be no revisions to the script made on behalf of a supporting caste
Because history exalts only the p**nography of force
That of murderers and psychopaths
The rest of us, of course, stricken from the narrative wholesale
A backdrop to their tale
As we, the two bits
Are ushered on and swiftly off the stage with
Jawbones of a**es
No stirring curtain call for the ma**es
No floral bouquet
No breaking of legs
No recurring role
No artistic control
And so in these days, in this terminal phase
It's all left to chance
A piece of advice, if you're cast on thin ice
You may as well dance
Do what you feel you must
But as for me, I was not
Put upon this earth
To subjugate or serve