Decades have passed since,

Three,

Never really united,

But forever infused,

Mixed genes and internal confusion,

No one element is as the other,

Each shrugging to their touch,

Yet reaching in and out for something,

It should be substantial,

No such luck,

Seven deadly sins amongst the lies,

Seven days before Autumn,

Gave birth to the second of fifth,

Struggle along three first names,

Just individuals in society.