Mould a mortal into superman?
Or shoot his roots from a baboon?
No useless matter to a foolish studied man.
We witness the spectacle of doom;
As the seed that first burst to the air
Of an over-inflated balloon.
Why so mad perfection niche?
In glorified scholastics
An acrobatic intellect.
As knots pressed through pulp it intermixed,
Elevated with a mercurial twist.
Inspired by evolution,
Despising democratic institutions
An anachronism in revolutions.
Faith withheld by tainted inadequacies.
Inflicting the godly with inferiorities.
Philosophical schisms were his legacy.
Last days spent in gloom.
In the asylum of the insane.
The tomb being that remedy
That removed his pain.
Nietzsche, well all recall your kitsch
In fest to steal our way home behind the wheel.
Gassed as guessed!
In the same vein, not aiming to be rude,
Were you proud or shrewd?
As so many of us crude
Shifting in the sand.
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