Strip away a man from his exterior mask,
a mask filled with luxuries of life,
beneath it, you will find a man still in search.
Through turmoil of never ending cycle,
each day he goes out to find his piece of dunya,
and during night, he worries himself to sleep.
Such is the life of void, a man who has nowhere to go except downward.
Imprisoned among those alike him, engaging
in the pursuit of happiness route, which is another code name
for materialism. It doesn't matter then, if you are dying or dead inside,
as long you can project yourself, to pass through those judgmental eyes,
foremost being the ones you woke up with every morning.
Then another day, another dollar awaits him.
Note: to be continued
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