Knights of the Round Table

You’re an obsessor
(As am I)
She’s not a sinner,
I am vanity sitting on my throne worshiped by
He who sits in sheer bewilderment as to what the female mind beholds,
The rest our dogs of conformity.

For the obsessor at the table,
She needs a pill
(But if she were to take it she’d be a dog)
Because to be accepted in our society you must have a pill to perfection,
Society will claim your obsession in the end,
Consider this a warning; I’d like to someday call you friend.

Butterfly, butterfly, wanted and sought after by all,
Why cant you take a fall?
(She cant for she’s to studious for actions against her morals)
She’s above us all.
But will be claimed by materialism,
And I’d be ashamed to have such a friend.

As for me I’m being hypocritical,
For I am almost the worst of all.
(Don’t you love my narcissist lover? We sit atop a throne of pain and lies.)
Adorning ourselves with pity,
After all aren’t we the most in need?

My flamboyant companion is too dogmatic to see anything clearly.
(He’s been claimed by al three of us thus far, obsession, materialism, and vanity.)
But he so chooses such friends.

The most degrading to me are the dogs,
Those who are in attendance physically but inept to all else.
(They truly admire all us, seeking to find their identity through one of us. Each one is worst than the last.)
These dogs are destine to be such words of definition like,
sadist, indulgence, repression, and confusion.
All are hated.

Yet we sit here together, day-by-day,
All of us a different sort,
Wishing to be like the one beside us,
Acting as though we cared for each for one another.
There is no such thing as felicity here.