The Socialite

The Socialite short poem

Photo by swong95765

She gets out of bed
gazes into vacant space.
It’s time to wake up and
put the mask on her face.

Time to mingle
with her so called friends.
Who are as fake and cold as her.
Pursuing their own selfish ends.

She ventures out into this world
with her mask on.
An iron shield around her heart,
pretending to have fun.

A world where people don’t say
what they actually mean.
Where words are used by everyone
merely as a smoke screen.

When someone dares to say
what’s actually in their heart.
People are offended
and tear them apart.

The mask gives her comfort
makes her blend in.
Gives her protection,
her real intent remains unseen.

It protects her, from her own kind.
Women with pretentious lifestyles.
She herself is full of pretenses,
bitching and the fake smiles.

She has lost touch with herself
somewhere along the route.
Now, bringing down other people
is her only strong suite.

She hates to take off this mask
even when she is on her own.
Hates the introspection,
and would rather be on the phone.

There was that helpless soul.
Who was wearing the wrong dress.
Whose accessories weren’t matching,
whose life was a mess.

To criticize others
is so much fun.
She feels a sense of pride
when she brings someone down.

The superficial and shallow
run this crazy zoo.
Steeped in the dumb attitude
of ‘ I am way better than you’.

She looks calm and in control.
She looks satisfied and smart.
But, then it is just a mask.
Who knows what is in her heart?

Poet’s Note:
Dedicated to all the intimidating masked women who have made many lives impossible…. May you all find some happiness!

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2 Comments on "The Socialite"

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Nadeem Qazilbash

We think she is happy and satisfied in her success and proud of her acting prowess, but there are layers and layers of taffeta and chiffon and Georgette and silk, in this gorgeous gown; where is the sadness, who knows.