But we’re only the clowns
In this circus under the sun,
Trying to win the hearts of everyone
Yet really impressing none.
We walk around in groups
Winding words in hula hoops.
Holding hands and swaying hips,
And the truth never grazing the lips.
Spinning word webs in gossamer,
We wait for a fly, a passer.
Catch a prey we think, we might
Soaring high, never alight!
Never ask a question why you’re so true
Surveillance injecting venom through a sprue.
Purling up an invisible lens in your head,
Scoring you instantly on each deed
Words you hear, none you’d heed,
Stacking up treasuries, none you’d need.
Pushing your smiles wider than ever,
For impressing those you don’t care, never.
What is this being “good” anyway?
You catch yourself pondering in dismay.
Am I being good because I want to,
Or is it ’cause someone’s peering, ado!
What is this “good” in the first place?
And why is it always setting me ablaze.
Just not doing bad, as good will do,
Then isn’t not stopping bad, a bad too?
And when was it the last time you asked yourself this,
Would you still be good if you dint have karma’s surveillances?
With not just one answer to keep or take,
I put this up for my own good’s sake!
