She was flat,
but still renown
a perfect body
supporting this town.
Her beauty sketched
from end to end,
mapping angry
global men.
Implants implanted
in ever text,
connecting her frown
to one that's
upside down.
Her fame had dwindled,
like a cosmic whore,
chasing a star.
The center no more.
Her character came
under attack
as gravity began
to hold her back.
Her body's not round!
So they say;
the illusion began
to fade away.
This poem is about the Flat Earth Theory, I am very curious to know Steemit's view on this subject. So leave a comment letting me know how stupid I am for entertaining this idea or applaud me for my admirable, bravery. I don't care, just comment already.