Skewered, stabbed and broken he kneels.
In this the twilight of his existence,
Not one spectator feels what he feels.
All jeers and clamors reach a fever pitch.
The time of closing has finally come nigh,
Victory or defeat, who knows which is which?
With a final sigh he decides to let it fall.
From his grasp falls the object he cherishes,
Nobody here appears ready to take up the call.
Down it tumbles into the ever sparkling abyss.
The fanaticism of the crowd escalates to a riot,
This is not a burden that he shall ever miss.
What ever happened to those that always depend?
Sadly their fates are no longer a concern here,
When will another fool allow them to transcend?
Now they feast on those that elevate the rest.
Until nothing is left to gorge themselves on,
As total transubstantiation is always the best.