DEARTH OF WORDS (Nazmaa)

DEARTH OF WORDS
# # # 
Stench from the 
Cesspool of relationships
Turns toxic,
People preen their way across,
Ensconcing their noses
Delicately with beautiful hankies.

The menu starts with
The watery soup of flattery,
The temptation is as old
As Garden of Eden,
Vigorous massage of ego
Personal grace and anointment
Make their own magic,
And one is criminally engaged in
Quest of some unknown
Through the maze.

The purr in the ear is the
Music of back scratching
Never an expression of love,
It's crackle of hollow lives
Being emptied of ethics
As flattery costs nothing 
But a string of lies,
There spreads a 
Subtle fragrance of
Words of false praise,
And you know
Ego is nothing but 
A genetic disease.

And now happens the
Next episode,
They are treated in disdain,
At times their 
Sensitive and Inflated ego
Gets hurt,
As they harbor the hallucination,
They are enjoying the
Proximity and intimacies of
The people 
Even whom they don't trust,
Knowing well from inside but
Assuming a mere transactional exchange
To be a true friendship and love.

The allure becomes irresistible
The person is addicted,
The ooziness of interactions
Brings more trap,
And he is bewildered by
The surrounding of a grim room
Made for him by the other,
And sorry !
I have dearth of words to
Describe the END.