Garb of Illusion

An uncanny terrain of paramount mendacity,

Dispels even an innate and robust audacity –

An empire contrived by a king perched on a throne,

Is plagued by melancholy when the common people groan.

 

Elusive wafts of deception are on the rise,

We experience a compelling need to prise –

Out of the oppression of scandalous lies;

Pay heed to the grievous cries.

 

How gullible are the ignorant and the oblivious,

The world is captivated by anything deemed lascivious.

Unfazed by any detrimental capriciousness,

And the latent, aggravating viciousness.

 

Glitziness and extravaganza are illusively alluring,

As is a false sense of reassuring –

With no credible veracity,

Rather than implicit faith in one’s own pertinacity.

 

Men have long forgotten their morals,

They’re just gluttonous about embellished laurels,

The exterior countenance is nothing short of sham,

To suit the requisites to be in front of a cam.

 

The human demeanour is so queer –

Anyone’s plight is disregarded with a mere sneer,

Sustained trust has become a bone of contention,

Whilst we’re nescient of the virtue of subvention.

 

The engulfing atmosphere is so sinister,

It is as dark as lies peddled by any minister.

Inciting emotions and bigotry have become easy –

It’s customary to masquerade glibness as sleazy.

 

“Et Tu, Brute?” Caesar himself was dazed,

The apparent betrayal that now blazed –

An honourable companion showing his true attribute,

Is deafening enough to make one’s conscience mute.

 

Drastic reforms are sought for resurgence, 

Reverence and frankness are clamouring for convergence,

Sanity solicits us to drop the spurious veil,

Be intrepid enough to admit that we’re really frail.