Sometimes subtlety eludes us,
While we look for substance
Is it there?
Or is it not?
Questions that fill the gaping hole,
Echoing from deep within.
However, in reality
We want to act like we got it
But sometimes,
It’s all an act,
A game,
A facade,
It’s all smoke and mirrors
That sears our souls;
A reflection of that gaping hole,
We walk into,
And ultimately fall into
While trying to smile.
Be careful,
Lest that smoke become a fire
And we become ashes of ourselves;
Be careful,
Lest our identity,
Is becomes a grotesque picture
Like Oscar’s Dorian Gray…

(c) Chukwudi Isaac