gone

The perfecting of
self with plastic,
booze and nicotine,
through lasers,
fast cars and
magazines, destroying
what once was to
create the “new”
you.

[but I happened to like the “old” you]

This “new” you looks
25
but feels more like
60,
sneers at the content
but envys them
in vain.

[Why? You used to be happy]

Hollowness prevails,
the soul trapped
inside wails to
be set free,
to be allowed to
be seen for who
you are.

[But who are you?]

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