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My son, the existentialist

January 27th, 2018 Leave a comment Go to comments

Xavier is seven, can’t conceive of heaven
Thinks talking is superfluous
He reads his Camus when we go to the zoo
And everyday on the school bus

Riddled with doubt for such a young sprout
Life overall is depressing
To try to becalm a kid with such qualms
Labored, exhausted, digressing

One day in the park, a shot in the dark
Perhaps we should watch some old movie?
He said let’s see Shrek, I said what the heck
Anything but him is less gloomy

The ogre’s story, while not laudatory
Was all the same decent enough
Yet Xavier hailed the cartoonish tale
His dystopian passion was snuffed

What hell this hath wrought, he talks like a Scot
Every hour of the day he will drone
It’s all just a phase, but revived my maliase
And now I read Nietzsche alone

Categories: death
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