I see you,
Day by day,
You look down your nose,
Crooked in its self-absorption,
Content in your internal ivory tower,
You’re not as tall as you think,
Are we all roaches to you?
Mere peons before you?
That downcast gaze decrees so,

The world was made all for you,
Your needs rising on lofty pedestals,
Entitled to your own happy superiority,
All rules made to break just for you,
Though you forget an amusing truth,
The void still waits,
There’s only a single plot waiting,
A coffin is just a pine box all the same,
Even princes rot.

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