one tends to
candy coat
life
natural
instinct
to raise ones arms
when one is about to be slapped
instinct
to shield a heart from pain
especially
if
it is your own
so
we candy coat
naturally
throw on some colored glasses
pretend
that all is
as it should be
when in fact
we
writhe in agony
over
lost dreams
lost hopes of pie in the sky wishes
chalk it all up
to
illusions of grandeur
and then
we become
the living dead
walking about in grotesque puppet existence
not feeling any emotion
nor portraying any semblance of
heart
smiling façade of driftwood
we become
automated as society allows
numbed with acceptable amounts
of cocktail hours
adding up the tally of hangover days
as
part of the game plan
part of the coated candy
we eat
to
survive
sweeping in grand motions
everything
under the carpet of the lies we build
to assuage the bitterness that hangs
stagnant and reeking of self disdain
and
every eye we look in
every glance we make
we
refuse to see that
we
are
all the same
lost
in a world where “lost” is king
where
fog rules
and
candy coated, rose colored glasses
are
the
norm