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They painted masks to hide the lie, A façade staving off an expectant eye "It's who we are!" They tell themselves A repeated prayer one seldom tells And in the mirrors harsher glare Are they disgusted standing there? To play pretend with wine and gin And faux aristocracy to blindly fit in. Yet survival now is all they know, Prosecco, lies and cheap Bordeaux. There fear lies with the honest face, Who though returned home is out of place Adrift in this sea of listless souls Who scream, "Wine!", "More shots!", And "#squadgoals!" And under this fog a new day breaks For morning joggers and their caffeine shakes Dog walkers, fools, and 'ladies who lunch' the ladz from the gym with a mortgage to crunch. Living this high and middle-class life Get a house with two kids, a dog , and a wife. Perhaps I'm too harsh Seeing survival as farce. Yet resigned to its chosen fate I don't stay long in my visits of late. Where once there was a heart and character Now rings cold and empty laughter. Again the banker takes control Though better men have served us all. I no longer wear my mask, Why do you? I turn and ask.