A dynasty of faces surround his every day.
Words travel around him faster than the speed of light,
Bright indeed, yet insignificant.
Beauty is his alternative medicine, in the absence of truth and fire.
In the absence of star-watching and underwater kissing,
A plastic smile is all he needs.
Nocturnal windows however, nest his longing
His untold tears,
Of the pain he never felt, the life he never left.
The woman he gave up waiting, because the sky was not enough.
Mr Perfect, has it all
because the sky was not enough.