I finally understand the cliche

who died and made you king?...



Cuz I am pretty sure God is still alive

And yet these fools strut around making everyone bend towards them.

There is no middle ground. We must meet them where they at.

Even if where they at is confusion island, decorated with out-of-date-procedure palms, and you-figure-out-I’m-in-a-meeting perfume.

Surprisingly, I am not a mind reader.



But of course these fools are well dressed; they smile, and have a strong handshakes.

They drive the BMW, the Lexus, the Mercedes, so they think the road was paved for them.



Before they knew how to tie their shoes, before they hair-grabbed and pinched their way into the corner offices,

The offices existed and someone else with the same bad-attitude hair style sat in that rolling chair, chewing on pens, making deals,

Do we allow them to be stubborn and bossy and unkind and shady, because we hope to one day be on the other side of the desk,

And we want to stubborn and bossy and unkind? Is it us who gave these fool’s permission to be king?



But whatever, I don’t care, I won’t hate you. I am going to try my darndest not to hate you.

I will not envy you. I will just stand here and smile and try to do my job.

I will put the numbers you hand in the boxes where they go and if you tell me 2+2 = 5 that’s what I will put, but I won’t believe you.





If you have any questions, please let me know. Thank you!