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E.A.P.: A Poet's Demise
It was long ago, thank the heaven’s above,
In a world of entropy,
That a poet once lived whom all now know—
The enigmatic E. A. P.
And this poet he scorned all customs and laws
To challenge eternity.
He was a man of troubled mind
In his realm of entropy,
But he envisioned a world no other could see—
The twisted mind of E. A. P.—
Envisioned a world that frightened the souls
Of prim and proper company.
And thus inspired, so long ago,
By his demons of entropy,
He created the nightmares which freeze our hearts—
Sadistic tales by E. A. P.—
Tales which frightened yet drew us in
With exotic capacity—
Drew us in despite or because
Of their tormented ecstasy.
Now bring him to the modern world
To speak to you and me—
Bring him to the world that we all know
Sunk deeper into entropy—
And watch our modern healers kill
The brooding soul of E. A. P.
For best to stifle the thoughts of those
Who know the world implicitly
And speak the truth explicitly.
Best to alter the minds which know
Those savage demons of entropy.
Best to sever the wills from the souls
Of the likes of E. A. P.
Now every soul must wither away
Without the gifts of E. A. P.
Our lives succumb to dark ennui
To live in homogeneity.
Our fates now lie in powders and pills
To dull the brightness of life’s thrills,
To finally give in to entropy
And purge our last humanity.
