oybub

How lonesome it is To live in this kind of world Where smiles are nothing But a curvature of the mouth How lonesome it is For the world to be full Of empty stares and vacant laughs Of half-hearted love affairs and ulterior motives Oh how sad it really is To hide our faces Behind painted masks of perfection Concealing the beauty of erring For as long as humans yearn for acceptance In society's demented depiction of perfection We shall hide behind these masks And forget who we are beneath it