They're a close knit family
Held together by hinges on picture frames
Their smiling faces
stitched together in a quilt
Fabricated with the fabric of fallacies
cling to each other by  threads of lies

  as living ghosts frozen in time
caged in glass
Haunt them from  along the walls
keep watch at bedside tables
taunt them from cubicle cages
and smile when they're no longer able.

But the pictures are old and faded
And the hinges rusted through
And the shrines built to their proverbial perfection
lay waste