To Mister Narcissus
To be up is to be exalted by one’s own self,
Where conceit reigns high upon the shelf,
And self camera shots of high decadence,
Have brought forth absence of altruistic prevalence.
Self love invigorates the status quo,
But not without its toll upon the ego.
An age of likes has bestowed upon the many,
A single photograph can bring about plenty.
Nostalgia remains for selfless virtue,
To whence modesty prevailed over hairdo.
Is it not the void within men that seeks appraisal,
For the keen features that lie ever so hazel?
Be not lovers of these “perilous times”,
As foreseen by St. Paul for their vainglorious crimes.
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