There is this man walking down the street
Blazing hot hour but wears an overcoat, pressed and neat
Gloves and masks, as if to hide everything they were made
Marches toward nowhere to nobody
His folks arrive, pheww At Least he got somebody.
No moment of frown, being unbothered with the dress code
The mask shows wrinkles of smile but knees trembling with its load
Now a woman arrives, notices it all and throws those extras in the bin.
Removes all the covering but makes him wear her preferred skin
They made a distance, they fall they rise, parting eventually with stems of roses
The skin was not his so it falls off and decomposes
The man is butt naked, visible to me and everyone who could see
Sprinting backwards founding the bin, he becomes the man he always used to be