A hopeful silly girl in a diaphanous dress—as blue as the sea—danced with grace and tranquility,
never once lacking in pristinity; she owned the floor she flew across,
invoking obeisance from a sad sebaceous crippled man, suffering from obesity
who was all alone.
Alone was he, though this was his own doing,
for he embraced, relished and took pride in his own sadness.
That was his character, his narrative; he was a corporate machine's mechanism always suing
whoever he could, so far as he could expedite the process
of wealth accumulation.
Indeed, he indoctrinated himself into believing
that he was designed to be a self destructive machine,
constantly plagued with deep rooted desires, persistently seeing
that which he could not have, that which could not be.
The silly girl came up to him; believing she was
while the man was not accustomed to silly things and believed not much in anything anymore.
The girl disregarded his sentiment, urging him, cloying him because
her ambition lent way to naivety; she thought that she could heal his tempestuous soul, his moral sore.
She had the treatment, yet the man denied his own salvation.
He told her, "Dancing, singing and flocking about are meaningless arbitrary actions; they do no good for the nation."
A disheartened bird with a broken wing she was, hearing that; nevertheless, unrelenting, she said, "Pointless is nothing that brings you jubilation; your corporate shenanigans are the most arbitrary games of all creation"
