The Sitter, By Brian37

You go out

For the evening

And leave at home

Your toddler

In the hands

Of one who you pay

To protect

This precious life

But she Tweets

On her Blackberry

While toddler wonders

Finding poison in the kitchen

You come home

To find dead child

And the sitter says

It's not my fault

I can't interfere

It's not my place

The kid had a choice

That's why he's dead

I allowed it

To test you

To see if you would

Remain loyal to me

I can do what I want

That is my only promise

To you

I owe no explination

You should be happy

That he's dead

A better place

Is his reward

Epicurus

Would fire me

And call me inept

Demanding my arrest

Holding credulity

In the face of this bankruptcy

You maintain the the staple

Of "faith"s fantasy

This is why

I get away with it

Why you wont fire me

Masterful ambiguity

I can demand

The mutilation

Of genitals

Calling it virtue

I watch you trapped

Underground

For months

And could have intervened

I wached

And did not stop

6 million cattle

Slaughtered by SS whims

And you still hire me

Because of my promise

Of fictional utopias

You so desperately want to believe

Call me next weekend

You have yet another

I will watch that one too

Trust me, I know what I'm doing.

If it suits my needs

I might, just might

Save that one

If I feel like it