We Give the Orders

A group of us, in a circle. We ruin the lives of those we envy. They call us heartless, Maybe we are. Do I speak for all of us? A group of us, in this circle. We try to make perfection. They call us nobodies, but aren’t we somebody? A group of us, in a dwindling circle. Our ides started to differ. Perhaps we aren’t all together. Were we ever? A group of us, in a circular room. Our graves state our true identities. Through death, we now know who is somebody.