Deceitful

This poem is really really cynical.

None can deny: the several faces,

The forged smiles,

The deceitful traces,

Nor can I refute: the urge within me,

To paint with colour,

To avert the frenzy,

With frenzy we form this ‘common’ ground,

A phoney fantasy

Represses the hound

I am deceitful.

You are deceitful.

We all are deceitful.