Facades


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1. Facades

She’s sitting over there.

Yeah, that’s her.

The one with the perfect

Hair, make-up, clothes, shoes, phone, bag,

Life.

 

I asked her the other day,

Are you happy?

She looked at me with eyes filled with…

Pain.

 

Such pain.

A soul-searing loneliness,

Hidden behind her perfect kohl rimmed eyes.

 

An abyss of emptiness,

That couldn’t be filled even by all the

Perfection

In her life.

 

She didn’t reply.

Wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

 

Surrounded by her beautiful instruments

Of infinite perfections,

Trapped by societies preoccupation with

Facades.

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