With colored scallops, two-tone rings,
And varnished highlights here and there.
But it didn't care.
Of its ornament on display
Unchanged e'er since the moth's first day
Not one was chosen for its meaning
Nor to reveal a political leaning.
But Facebook pages 'cross the land
Are full of righteous reprimand
And earnest truths are there tattooed -
Quite often rude.
We seek, it seems, to justify
Ourselves, (or have an alibi!)
To prove we know the wrong from right -
And choose to choose the light.
But all we do is pound our chests.
Or with the wisdom we possess,
However shallow, howe'er mean,
We show, then vent our spleen.
Well... bollocks, fiddlesticks and fie.
There's but one thing to catch the eye:
Lives of beauty, quiet, free.
Would that will be me.