The Tetragon
There was once a boy who was trapped in a box.
Quick witted known to outplay the fox.
There was an air about him, an aura that grounded, that came with a pop.
Coal not yet a diamond, loose toe in the socks.
Foes surrounded him, trenches dug around, destruction knocks
Mangy hair formed into locs
Cyclical parades daily borders in his walks
Rocks, shocks tick toks with clocks
The voices eternally mocks
Ideas of freedom internally stalk.
The world shouts
“Bring down those walls”
Furious indigitation ignites his temptations
To the wall he climbs to see the forces waiting.
He allows the wind to blow through his hair in deep contemplations.
He claps three times and roars
“I owe no explanation, you are force yet I am devastation”
The world slams sword to shields
“Yeild and I’ll teach you how to truly build”
Jubilation takes over his determination
He sits feet a swangin
“To whom do you speak to you fools.”
He continues
To whom do I harm within this home I erected?
To whom do you find yourself so protective?
Why must you hurt my eyes with your scent of demise?
Do you threaten yet still try to compromise?
For only I am here.
Am I too much for your world to bare
Does my non-conformation disrupt your practiced formations?
A world of hexagons fear my mighty tetragon.
Would you have me remove a wall to form your triangle?
Shall I elongate two walls and become your rectangle?
Should I bend to your will and once then your horrid picture will be fulfilled?
Even more I will bend all my walls and encircle truth, just to spite you.
And now he laughs
A joyous and satisfying aftermath
So now I’ll destroy this fourth wall
Take a moment and understand the math
Appreciate the formula of my craft
Unleash your notebook and inscribe my graph
So you may see the coming bloodbath
This is the world’s epitaph
Now, let’s all sit back and . . . laugh.
