The Fake Game

Everyone is chasing

Passions and possessions

Some big and others small

But the true saints solely know it all

 

The capturing world captures us

But we can’t capture the capture real

On and off- behind and in front

The lips’ curve reverse between polar situations

 

Putting on the body beauty in loads

to hide the beauty that is pure

Not letting the porous skin breathe

The make up covers it as a shield

 

None is able to realise

All of this is a trap

Those possessions are playing a fake game

Making us circle around the life’s map

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