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My "N" Word
Nihilism is my "N" word
Because it is supposed to hurt so much
But I cannot get away from the sound
That echoes over the hollow drum
Which is the shell of meaning.
So now this is just another nihilistic poem.
Metaphors that can make meaning
To create curiosity
But they cannot make up for the life
Which cannot justify
Curiosity.
Because their might be a meaning to church
Until they die, then there is none
I guess if they were going to regret
They would do it then too
But there is none.
So maybe what they said back then
Even if they would have felt bad
They don’t.
I don’t think they remember back then
When their house was cold
With only a promise of heat
From the morning sun.
When my mother laughed over her pain
Mourning for her father
Who couldn’t be there for her
He was mourning a son
That he would never have.
They would have been his grandsons.
They were my cousins
And I should have been his grandson too.
They wanted happy stories though
So I was skipped over.
They wanted to know their grandpa was missing out
By not knowing them.
I guess grandpa would have been looking down on me too
According to them.
I could sigh
Or I could just sleep.
And maybe I’ll need them
I just cannot pretend I’ll find them.
