A Facade.

An old book and a coffee shop.

Expensive taste, in a tattered top.

The war on religion, the hipster's vision.

The man in the mirror, the boys in the prison.

The novel in my hand, portraying this fantasy.

The reality in the world, that floats beneath my feet.

A bitter taste of my own medicine, seeing reality in a tethered tent.

A facade from the world of the oaks and steeds, a poor man lying in the worn down streets. 

Open your mind to the reality in the old man's eyes. 

A fresh piece of meat surrounded by several flies.

The meat it decays, but the people still stay.

When there's nothing left of this world, where will we lay?

Reviews

[Glen Yumang Manese]

Interests lies in the verse... the before and after effectiveness... I can also hear a voice in the lines as a reader... each line give one a moment of thought and reflection... and you leave us to answer the question in the end:

When there's nothing left of this world, where will we lay?

Hope is the final answer... we must not give up...