A drunken god has
spoke you into existence
A stolen diary that told you,
it’s a sin to return this body
even if its weak bones
couldn’t carry the weight
of your heavy heart
I know I can speak myself out of it
With a blade in my hand
standing on the edge of the stage,
I’ll wait for the Almighty to sober up
and watch me steal his role
After twenty years of rehearsal
I’ll play god,
lights will go off,
and curtains will close
Your followers will clap in awe
at my convincing performance
As I bow before them
As I fall before you
This is merely satire.