Prometean

This is not 'Vanity Fair' - neither you, nor me,
This is not Sparta - otherwise we would have fallen.
This is a display of gratitude and sanctity,
Among Greek harmonies and 'London Calling'.
Pivot turns, stories new and used,
Plot simplification on high definition,
My resolution is to keep my youth,
To fuel a globalized ambition.
Recklessly detailed, as all the compendi and manuscripts,
As clean, unspoilt misleading social lifts,
A thesis on us would have been a masterpiece,
A planet is too big to ever find peace.
It might be us, but we claim to be no one
In a long game of self-deprecation,
They attend lupercalia under the setting sun -
the only ruler with virtually no resignation.
I have not bothered you with a single thought,
Playing a child with ill manners,
Yet the Antarctica has lost a lot,
Crossed by birds with metal feathers.


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