Pluto's a planet no more,
and schoolboys rejoice;
one less to remember, they say.
The man in motion,
twenty trips around the sun;
a globetrotting cyborg rolls on.
Bomb plots defused,
unrest nevertheless the norm;
misery abound in this planet,
that we call home;
yet it is still a planet,
but according to whom?
Pluto's a planet no more,
dead,
erased,
snuffed from the chart;
for man prefers death,
willed by his own hand,
and exalted cogito.
