A sonnet for Andre and all losers who enjoy the false feeling of a moral victory

For him there was just one sin:
To perform it without plastic.
Yet he thought himself fantastic,
Profound, just for being clean.

His sharp methods of hygiene
Separated him from life,
Of course, and the way that life
Is, and always must begin.

Now he’s “off to greener pastures”,
Because his soft words were ever
Unaccompanied by gestures.

Now he thinks himself so cute,
And so lost. But not to lose
Was not part of his endeavours.

Autor: Pedro Sette-Câmara

www.pedrosette.com