No matter,
a plastic man drifts ashore and
has every sense to point at the majority to say
"no more real than I."
The youth of our age,
slapped with the pseudonym
the Lost Generation,
is surprised?

We tire of the idiosyncrasy,
the idiocy of today and the joyous yells
over the death of Terror
redundant whines over loss and
forever arguing
We Lost More.
We lost an ant to an anthill
while others lost an army to a peasant.

I fear I digress from the
POINT of our existence has
lost its meaning in the age of
autocorrect and autotune and we
drift as the plastic men we are
away from the shore, no matter.