Bunch of squares

Squares, they are floating
Always in a cozy, crowded group
Drifting without a point
In a circular sea

They’ve no depth, they’re just pieces
Bits of flatness
Senseless fragments—
Their absorptive apparatus, wrecked beyond repair;
They yell and bray out shallow nothings,
In the language of the visually deaf

Kites float in
Adorn the air above
They’re shapeless, formless
Try to speak in a cogent tongue—
Too colorful and Too immersed in depth for the squares below

The shapeless kites scare ‘em
The Squares beleive the world they inhabit is flat, like 'em
The shapeless kites question the superstition

The floating squares bob and jiggle,
Threatened, the squares bellow out profanities, 
shout the kites down, trying to bully the kites to a submission

The kites bow out, leave the square's circular frame
The brainless bunch pat each other,
“Ha! We did it.”

Bowing out—an act of the sensible
To bow out is courage
Squares—just as good as their insecure bubble—
laugh out loud,
They float on, crowding each other
Pointlessness personified.