Looking through stained glass, seeing, but not far. Painted smiles, carefully crafted, cracking As they reveal the judgmental laughter; Smiles laced with empathy, never lacking
The biases and traps deepening the rot - Condemning the ones who would never sway. As the fatigue spreads, dullness that they sought And brought the apathy which would delay;
Delay the thoughts that had spread, had begun Their journey, devouring everything left. No one sees the fall - not the old or young, Too busy staring, not at me, not yet.
Not until the body lies, cold set in, Does the paint deform and their laughter die.