Bring me your poor, your weary, your downtrodden,
So that I may crush them under my heel.
I will weaken their bodies in the blazing sun.
I will sap their hard-earned pennies
With promises of sexual promiscuity and flowing rivers of booze.
With promises of unlimited wealth, free for the taking.
I will eat their minds with ever-expanding spectacles
Of prestidigious peril, musical mayhem, and lightshow lunacy,
Colliding in a cacophonous kaleidoscope of calamity.
I will leave them hollow shells of humanity,
Drooling and gibbering through a haze of madness.
Fueled by the bottle, by the chip, or by the pipe.
Or best of all, just some pieces of a human mind,
Shining bright through eyes gone feral.
I will wash them in a pool of sweat,
Dress them in dirty rags,
Feed them on broken dreams and old sorrows,
While whispering words of nothing into their ears.
Then I will send them out among you,
With a grin on each face, with a gleam in each eye,
To mumble and swear at you.
You may pity them, you may laugh at them,
Or better yet, run from them in terror.
It makes no difference to me,
For I am the Show, everlasting,
With thousands called everyday
By my sacchrin sweet siren's song.
They come in droves,
Enchanted by the bait that I so cunningly laid out for them.
Some, the quick ones, will snatch the bait,
And run home safe.
The rest will fall prey to their desires, falling deftly into my trap.
Then I will take them, mold them, twist them, shape them,
Until they are bleak shadows of their former selves.
And then, only then, will I breath life back into them,
Thus making them my children.