Shrug with false dignity

Virtues signaled

Calculating fractions

Of what is left

Pinpoint the point

Within the point

I’m trying to make

Pretentious as hell

With my poetic license

A tin-can philosopher

Of little note

Weaver of words

Offering up shallow


Commentary, judgment

Of the world around me

Too self-indulgent

To see

I, like the others

Haven’t a clue

What the hell

I’m talking about