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Made of immortal metal,
disillusioned puny humans
large as life
outside
amoeboid
inside,
strut
chest puffed
like the mating dance of a grouse
strain too hard
to uphold
the infallible.
Hemorrhoids
mark a true supervisor,
hanging like clusters of grapes
rupturing
as you go into falsetto,
chirping of your
accomplishments.
Don't you know?
Light shines through
your exo-skeleton,
pouring from hearts and souls
deep into the joints
of your suit of armour,
rendering you
more and more helpless
until you are left
frozen by fear.
All the while,
you are aware
that the curtain
must fall
in the nighttime.
You thought it marked the end
of your pathetic performance
until a barrage of rotten eggs
flew at once.
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