The Fascist Pet

Meticulous planner with the soft heart

Well, a heart that was soft, but now, battered, calloused

Hands tiny and fingers wandering, wanting

Servile loyalty to his God

Someone has to lead

His face is better than mine

So it shall be him

He will be their God

But I have plans

I am the mechanical clockwork

Behind the face of God

That keeps this whole charade going

When the face rots away

The people will see what we really are

What we’ve done

I will be absolved, hopefully