Cook My Clothes

At a point of the very zenith,

Missing is the very first feelings.

It has no idea what’s ever passé.

So chimera breaks and bleeds,

Fleeting away from the pedestal in peace.

So genuine and it So true:

The rooster crowing; the pennant being!

As the lyrics been crooned,

Sashes shell float in blinks.

That’s what it thought to be true.

So infamous and it So foul:

The roasted snails sizzle and glitz.

As the petition expired in flouts,

Hashed is its gaudy guise.

That’s how delirium routs.

Then some says yes and some says no,

While something still, 

While the rest was spilled.

But no clue could ever bloom:

Satin stained and silk remains,

Yet the busy lanes load’ by lames.