Wrinkled hands under pleasure,
Lost in a merry blows of pleasure.
Fake life, hoax heart, phoney posture,
to steal the pride of treasure.
A pat is sure,
A pet is reassured.
Pretense! A game of quack posture.
Greet the handicaps in torture,
those who aim greener pasture
but otiose to the cost and expenditure.
Sick to death, the bed the mate.
Clinging glued, shivering fake
to skip work and eradicate
Agog with bated breath. A great
plague you toil with, a pirate
and dubious heart, the bed soulmate.
‘Take care, take tea, take and take,
The recipe way pretense the day take.
Nothing thrills than a stolen smile.
A scheme in ambush to go mile,
To please them but for a while.
Fake dimples with smirk smile,
radiating friendship in wry cry,
To suffuse in heart with fair lie.
A stolen garb of prince and princess,
To calvacade round in self confidence.
Pretense! A judgement of time,
Time shalt review thy crime..
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