People around me,
At places high and low;
With whom to shake hand,
To whom shall I take a bow?
Toned to perfection;
All emotions veiled,
Behind masks of austere discretion.
As I stare through the prism,
It all seems crystal clear;
As the synthetic thoughts settle down,
I see the hidden fear.
The once vibrant spirits,
Virile and vim;
In trail of wealth,
Turned vile men with faces grim.
Even at the sight of the best exquisites,
Behests are they dull and flag;
Cause ne’er do they seek the beauty,
But only the price tag.
Yet, staring through the prism,
As the glaring lights separates out;
I see a scared man hiding,
Behind the façade of flamboyant pride,
And ‘em frowns stout.