If you ever get the suspicion
that you just might be walking
on egg shells
somewhere around
the graveyard of the nearly dead
you might be human
maybe I’m just human
or maybe I sacrificed my sanity
one too many times
and the one I don’t believe in
is out to destroy
whatever fragments
of faith I ever had
but I’m not Job
or his propensity
for letting god walk all over his feet
I don’t take that back
nor can I apologize
for not pulling out the red carpet
to curtsey
every time life steps in
during those brief minutes
when we’re able to catch our breath
because there’s an empire at work
mass-producing superman
that not everybody can be
his image is etched into prison walls
snickering at the ones who couldn’t win
If I’m victorious
thank satan
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