Sunday, 3 April 2011

Musings after Meeting a Façade

                                                  I spit
on your constructed artificialities, scorn
the farce you think your soul, resent
the froth your clichés churn. So, call
me callous and cruel, but I think you might just like
yourself, if you knew even who you were. I don't,
and you are making it impossible to find out.

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