Death of a Childhood

Death of a Childhood                                   September 21, 2009

I've tried to hold on for so long,
But Kip, it's simply time to give 'er up.
No more lazy boy days in the house,
But instead slaving to The Man
The best way we know how.
This knife is so God damn symbolic
Of how Mussolini rallied crowds.
It's more ingenius, more aesthetic,
Than Hitler simply raising his arm.
No. Simply put, the knife is power,
And we are beholden to it
As it severs the remains of our day.

You ask me if there is any fight left?
Silly boy! Of course not.
I don't feel like being strung up
By my balls, quite frankly.
I'll bow down, oui, oui, 
To my new master and holder.
It's the natural course of things, Kip,
The natural course of things.
And to "le resistance," is there any left?

Nada. Crushed. Brain is turned to slush.
The pain too much to tarry on.
But what of The Light?
The sun got dimmed as well.
No more bedtimes or mommy tucking us in,
Just us losing lives, our childhoods,
In one last dash.
Nauta subsido in profundum, ut depths of Tarturus,
Ut cubile of Hades.