Reality Television

Everyone is always talking, yet repeating the same scripted lines.
Regurgitating and rehashtagging, demonstrating evident design.
Everyone has become a bunch of extras, walking on this worldly set.
Repeating lines diligently so when the camera rolls, they don’t forget.
Except in this fourth turning, the fourth wall is being broken down.
Tearing a supernatural barrier open, to those mighty actors of renown.
So now each man, unable to break free, pigeonholed they’ve all become.
Destined to keep playing their part, despite that ominous sounding drum.
Which beating now in their inner ear, the thumping of mortal blood,
Condemns the reporting of hardened hearts, just as once did that flood.
And I, on the one hand am being made a spectacle,
And on the other, partake with those treated the same;
A gazingstock that is doomed to death, reproached because of His name.
But never fear, for it is time, for judgement to begin from His home.
And if first from us, then how fearful for the great amphitheater of Rome.