We all confront ourselves, portraits.
Disguised as respectable people
caged in our own narcissistic vignettes.
In a world society colonized with the passionless
cries for sustenance locked in a mute grave
phantom metropolises become voiceless.
The gallery holds the key to coordinated inaction
as the melodrama unfolds, replacing hypocrisy.
Compassionless in the crowd, we find peace in ourselves.