Phoney
a poem by R.A. Jacob
Another idol broke,
Another ideal died,
I thought it was solid,
Until I had tried
Why did I Try,
I should have known it for sure,
Phoney is the trend of the age,
Gold is always just a trace.
In this world, beauty is skin deep,
Heavyweights are featherweights,
So-called light don’t even have a trace,
Yet all of us have a face.
We face each other,
We look for worth,
Yet we find it rarely,
For it’s in dearth.
You look at me,
I look at you,
You see yourself,
I see myself
We hide our feelings,
We hide all trash,
If ever it is opened,
We are all bound to crash.
In life many a time it so happens that people whom we adore fall short and fall from their position in our hearts and it hurts us beyond our expectations.
