The Existentialist
What cruel castrate concentration
The bliss relieved by alieviation
Tis foolish to fair well
Tis foolisher to fair
What matters lies inside
But strangely outside nonetheless
Thus sings the existentialist
A song to oneself most of all
A rising above
A coming to terms
A ability to see before ones eyes
The truth of life
The fate of man
The calm laughter
of sheer misery