Henry's Poem

If I am simply a host of souls Of thousands of ghosts Who can’t discern their own road Of a cowardice group of trolls who don’t have the courage to demand a toll Then where am I supposed to go? If I stay then they will bray And their entropy will form disarray Of lost treasures demanding names And memories that demand to be faced And leaving me a to-do list The population of China without a single item that can be erased But if I leave then they will plead And there we will go again With the entropy And I’ll hear the words “Please, please, please!” But shouting through it Will only be thoughts of “Me! Me! Me!” And that is the impasse I foresee Should I stay and be forced to reminisce? And call on Wilde to denote mistakes as experience? But then, oh no, I cannot handle this list The list that foretells of all of their bliss And foreboding portends to an attitude so cantankerous That I may throw a tantrum and shout and scream and kick But not one of them would I ever dare physically or metaphorically hit How is this a fire I had not already lit? Yes, I have to depart They need to learn to console their own hearts Need to learn how to pick themselves up and start Moving not toward my light but our of their own dark So I can go and piece back together my own heart And let their dismantling entropy get lost in a crashing go-kart Because I really need a break from forming splatted blotches into art Rather than letting everyone get cut from discarded shrapnel and shard That through my soul used to send a poisonous dart Oh, how is this a fire I hadn’t already lit? Well now it’s burning I even brought extra sticks