His mother was suicidal His father was patricidal His siblings all fratricidal They fractured his parietal. His acumen was impractical While his mien was didactical His morals were retractible And his religion was heretical.
He longed to be a celebrity And wished for its celerity To skip the serendipity And fork over his luminosity. But it seems that synchronicity Paired up with idiosyncrasy In a natural form of complicity And waylaid him with complicity.
He moaned that he was qualified And not the least bit mollified To be so soundly criticized That they could not recognize By those who were so glassy eyed A plenipotentiary, very wise Who appears before their very eyes Who they would gladly plagiarize Even while they ostracize.
He canβt achieve equanimity When so many hold their enmity And treat him so outrageously In ignoring his magnanimity. After all, is there anyone living Who is so astoundingly forgiving Than he by the simple act of giving And letting them go on living?