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 pornography 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 asses

No stirring curtain call for the masses



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