No two are alike. Just the mold is same. Artificial Image of beauty. Coughing their scars open. Streching their night a bit longer.
It’s close to midnight. The mask is about to burst open. Leaving them vulnerable. Revealing their true face to the crowd.
They’re just pets of our time. Cats of some sort. Tattooed animals in vain. Trying to escape from their masters. But always returning for more limelight, yet still never satisfied…
