To be a beautiful liar
You need to have a ‘lived-in’ face
That rumples, plasticine-like,
Into all men’s motives, any place.
To build a beautiful brick wall
Of skin cells over your warped mind
You plaster pink, day come, day go,
On wear-worn grin and lips like rind.
To be a leader, learn the lines
Lean words against your lazy lips
And spit them out in rhythmic sings
Of hatred, sweet like nettle-tips.
To hurt yourself, play-act your smile.
Create, berate, and wait a while.
Curate your prestige, run the trial,
Live life in power, and self-denial.