Such deception at only the price of a cheesy smile.
To think I could mingle with the elite.
And graze ad-nausium in their playground.
No awards are there to shower accolades for such a performance.
To become, to fit in without question;
Caviar and Trisquits never swallowed easier.
Ah, the good life at last.
And here I am stepping on ants where I used to live.
"Survival of the fittest, " they say;
But only a counterfeit can really play.
Those precious mornings in the mirror,
Pasting images no gallery can afford.
As I step into my disguise and give a nod
and a wink;
To the pretender.
Copyright © Carl Fraser