When people think of the X-Men
They think about Wolverine, Cyclops and Storm
The super-powereded mutants of justice
Who cleanse the world of scorn.
The emphasis on the lives of the mutants
Give them relatability
The fact that, under the mask, they’re problematic humans
Gives off a scent of empathy.
But let’s look at the subject of the poem,
We see it again and again.
X-Men, X-Men, X-Men,
written in ball point pen.
Screaming the word like a headless hen
Running around in a dim-lit den
As we read through the dumb adventures of Tim and Gwen
With the superpower to go “SUPER ZEN”
Mixed with bullshit clichés, I’m counting them, nine, ten.
But then, but then
They teleport to Big Ben
Where they fight the fucking enchanted mailmen
Lead by a guy called the Sh’n’jal’zk’fen.
But this is not about that.
It’s about the X.
Why not Y?
Out of the 26 letters, why X?
Do we know why?
But I think I do.
I have theory.
It’s so bullshit it just might work.
You’ll be teary
Hitting your head on your keyboard
Cursing to yourself that you didn’t think about it first.
See, the superpowers don’t come from a magic crystal
Or other bullshit that’s generic
It’s more personal and scientific.
It’s something a bit more… genetic.
The X-Men are called so due to a great addition
In that they have so many X-Chromosomes that they get powers.
With the extra x’s, they can shoot lasers
Grow an extra head or jump over towers.
Wolverine sure is special, but not because of his cool-ass bones
It’s because of crazy, extreme version of down syndrome.
Possibly, in an alternate dimension
Cyclops is albino and has a colour blind son.
Or maybe this is all bullshit.
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