Thro'W'-N-'E'

High and mighty, you think you are. 

High up in your pedestal, sleek shoes shine from the bootblack's sweat. 
High is what you feel up on cloud nine; divine ecstasy, afraid of getting wet. 
Highness, of royalty, you reek of old money. 
Highness, of power, you forget the small luxury. 

You dream more elegantly; you've acquired new sophistication. 
You live under great conditions; you've lost real imagination. 
Your smile is different, you've forgotten the value of failure. 
Your smile is different, you've forgotten your savior. 

Sharp as you look, suited and proper.
Conditioned behavior, manners are of pauper. 
Fine dining becomes casual routine. 
Devouring assets, simple and clean. 

Up and up you go. 
Will you think of those below?
Your reign will soon be over, make sure to land on your feet. 
Don't get too comfortable, recovery won't be sweet.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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