Beneath it all

Written by: Pravir Dass

Here walks a man
Dressed to the nines
Talking by hand 
With a mouth full of sighs

Fingers in his pockets
Grasping wads of lint
Eyes rolling in their sockets
Torn socks in shoes looking mint

Trully impressive he is
While he struts down the road
Self-assured the strain of that smile of his
Will stay hidden within the fold

The truth this man
Remains but a mystery
His shiny facade a sham
Yet it does its job implicitly