deepundergroundpoetry.com
Vogue Disillusion
The sun is blocked by a cloud of self-deceit
Blinding those below it into unwilling submission
To become something they are not
The higher expectations to be a piece of artwork
Framed and hung in the minds of modern day society
Not stopping until we tear the last strand
Of the inner fabric keeping us together
Looking for ways to constantly improve our selves
Changing our “imperfections” till we are everybody’s fool
Caught in the belief that the more money we spend
We can fill the cavity in our chest
That our self-consciousness has permanently voided
Taking to the cold streets to find a temporary escape
The twirling lights of the marquees dance
While lifeless mannequins in windows plead for a purpose
BUY ME, LOVE ME, SELL ME like a used whore
Portraits of false gods grace the signs on the boulevard
We are just ugly disciples in their eyes
Empty promises choked out on the latest cologne
Slowly stripping out identity layer by layer
Leaving us naked and ashamed of whom we are
Sold to the idea of a perfect image
That starves us until we are weak
Letting them beat us like dogs
Chaining us to the television
In the masses like a church gathering
Waiting for the next best thing
Blinding those below it into unwilling submission
To become something they are not
The higher expectations to be a piece of artwork
Framed and hung in the minds of modern day society
Not stopping until we tear the last strand
Of the inner fabric keeping us together
Looking for ways to constantly improve our selves
Changing our “imperfections” till we are everybody’s fool
Caught in the belief that the more money we spend
We can fill the cavity in our chest
That our self-consciousness has permanently voided
Taking to the cold streets to find a temporary escape
The twirling lights of the marquees dance
While lifeless mannequins in windows plead for a purpose
BUY ME, LOVE ME, SELL ME like a used whore
Portraits of false gods grace the signs on the boulevard
We are just ugly disciples in their eyes
Empty promises choked out on the latest cologne
Slowly stripping out identity layer by layer
Leaving us naked and ashamed of whom we are
Sold to the idea of a perfect image
That starves us until we are weak
Letting them beat us like dogs
Chaining us to the television
In the masses like a church gathering
Waiting for the next best thing
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