Home
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.
Copyright © The Red Rain | Year Posted 2017
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