People whose only meaning is to keep up appearances,
a competition of swankiness,
looking around like barn owls,
trying to hide from the inevitable bigger fish.
I’m just as bad for sitting here, keeping up with the jones’, trying to believe this nice time is worth it.
They sit and expect, despite having absolutely nothing to offer.
I’d love to inject you all with lucidity, and watch your life degrade.
Show the true colours of your damaged personality,
Expose your grey hypocritical ubiquity.
Bland and soulless,
empty and barren.
A dry riverbed,
I can see through the cracks and the confusion behind your smile.
As you realise without knowing what’s missing, that suave looks aren’t quite enough.
