Cosmeticity
I stand in the middle of a playground
And the players move around me
I look at them and sigh
Do they even realize that they’re aging?
They are busy trying
A futile attempt to win
They have rules made by them
They have defined happiness too
They want to master the unconquerable
All the while being slaves themselves
They run in a circle
Believing that there is an end
I cannot stop my laughter
Neither can the birds in the sky
They are the dominoes
Who are controlled not by themselves
They live in a cosmetic city
A city in their minds
My feverish hands call out
But they pay me no heed
I am, after all, one of them
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
