the rumpty dance in poetry

what do you call the thing that’s left
when you’re beaten but you’re not dead?
when the body’s gone but you’re still ahead?
when you’ve fallen but you’re not broken?
when you’re not unseen but are unspoken?
what do you even call that?

once there was an empire
now there’s just a sliver of land
once there was a beach front
now there’s just some sand
once there was a feast on
the world atop your plate
but you failed the long con
now you’re just a rump state