dev banerjee

'The Factory Of Faces.'

Someone pretends and,

Some do not sometimes.

Living here-in the city of shadows,

We all act too phonily;

And benevolently fake.

Falling as a prey to fit into,

Just failing to feel our;

Prescribed roles irrespectively.

Ending to live with the reminiscent residuals,

Of a pseudo life;

That's left in our hands.

Where every breath taken is,

A subject to fade and decay.

And ultimately will cease itself,

Proving to be dead someday.

As fooling me,

It only fools you;

Fooling...