“Fake is the new real, You gotta keep a lot of shit to yourself.” ― Genereux Philip
I see them Here!
I see them There!
I see them in every Corner!
They are just Everywhere!
Nicely Sculpted, Diligently Crafted, Carefully Kept
Just like a Monument meant to remain forever.
I see them working
Putting in efforts on the outer shell.
The shape of the muscle.
The tone of the skin.
I see them grooming their hair with the costly brushes.
I notice their costly clothes – not just a pair of shirt or pants but a load of matching accessories too, to flaunt.
They are so much busy in doing this,
that they forget the true color of the skin they live in,
The real person within,
The original character, they were born with.
These macho men that walk around me, or
the charming girls with tricks to hypnotize anyone.
Hardly I meet the person underneath that chiseled body or charming face.
Only thing I get to enjoy is
small talks, or casual walks,
brief stay, or fake praise.
All of these always leave me with very little to feel.
And poor me keep judging them from what I see.
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