We are adventurers, searching for the promised land -- crystal clear rivers, fresh breeze of caressing wind blowing onto plush green pastures. We started young, traveled early to avoid the pressure of waking eyes that stare like we’re spoiled meat butchered days before we were even sold. Hovering over the pestering licks of hot flaming tongues trying to have a taste of our merely half-cooked bodies. We bravely stand in line, in front of a squad of soldiers holding plastic toy guns tickling us with 24 carat gold pellets until our funny bones break in such pleasure. We bathe in the novelty of melted candy éclairs but dry ourselves under the fierce heat of the sun of truth. We are crowned and caped, dressed in royal blue silk robes, red suede chucks and green velvet underwear but whipped on our backs with electrifying cords and cables. Juggling us like wine bottles and pour our sweat and blood into 2 ounce shot glasses offered on the bar as liquor to senior citizens. We are made to believe we are gods but yet in reality we are puny christs. Saviors crucified on metal posts. People passing us like we were mere ornaments on main streets. Mocking us, assuming that’s all we can do. We can do more We can even kneel on nails.