The Trendy Hoax of Serenity

Struggling often to find the inner peace
that every one else seems to have
drains me to the point of being non-existent.
It is then that I realize
that the others are faking,
their smiles as plastic as the water bottles
they sip from in their desperate attempts to be fashionably healthy.
Clever, I suppose, but none the more wise,
easily the lies will creep from their mouths
spewing advice on ways to better myself.
A heavily needed honest look in the mirror
would drive them to the big leather chairs
of the nearest psychologist office,
sniffling and shuttering over the same fears
they told me were basic excuses not to thrive,
excuses not to pass my past.
Cunning ol’ me, I’ll slip them a compliment,
indulge them in a witty frenzy of things
they’ve only seen pictures of and never experienced,
just to feed that starving ego they’ve fashioned
to please the same peers who know just as less as themselves.
Engaging in their fabricated worlds foster a
bliss more pure than a flower not yet blossomed
in a bed full of the richest soil.
I have found peace amidst the chaos of all things untrue.

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