Why can’t we be

As pure as a flower

Growing naturally, artlessly?

Why do we have to pretend

To care when we don’t,

To feel when our hearts are empty,

To believe when we’re full of doubts,

To love when there’s only contempt?

They say if you live in society,

You need to socialize,

Be friendly, smile.

But what if society’s superficiality

Is killing you?

And you’re dying a slow, painful death

With your fake smile, and your fake laugh

And your equally fake concern

For your fake friends.

 
Perhaps this is part of living.

Perhaps life itself is superficial.