I Could be a Cult Leader
I’m well-spoken,
Polite,
And I make people feel welcome.
My fashion sense is underdeveloped,
But I can make due,
With a collared shirt,
And a tie.
The doctrines of my church,
Won’t be too strict;
No stealing,
No killing,
No lying.
Hmmm,
Should probably have one weird rule,
Just to be safe.
I got it.
No betting on dinosaur fights!
Be nice to be worshiped,
A group of people who will never criticize me,
Or leave me.
Always praise me,
Look at me with glowing eyes,
Hold my hand just because I asked.
No hug is ever too tight,
Or too long,
They want my everything.
I will be a kind God.
You won’t have to sleep with me,
Or give me your firstborn,
Though I may ask to play with your kittens,
For they do look so cuddly-wuddly.
There will be nothing in my kool-aid,
Except sugar,
And love.
And vodka.
Lots of vodka.
And no virgin sacrifices,
Don’t want the non-virgins feeling left out.
Just show up to the weekly meetings,
We’ll play video games,
And tell secrets.
Promise you’ll love me,
And I’ll make you feel whole.
How long before I get tired of it?
I will get tired of it,
Because nothing satisfies me,
Even being God.
What will I do,
When I have a tribe of people,
Who love and worship me,
And I’m still miserable?
No wonder cult leaders always kill themselves.
Although,
I still don’t get why they need to take their followers with them.
When I go down,
I’ll make sure,
Not to do that.
