Velvet Noose

By Kaavin Farwaha

If you're blue and lost in dread,

Drowning dreams to chase your bread,

Why not march where fashion sits—-

Neon thrones and filtered blitz.

Mirror tells you: “You’re the king!”

Where plastic crowns mean something.

A suit of silk, a branded tie,

A watch that screams how hard you try....

But who’s it for, this masquerade?

The crowd you loathe, yet still parade.

Dressed up like a showroom phantom,

Trying hard to look so handsome.

Chasing tags as if they grant ’em

Status, grace, or soul, or palace—

But all it buys is empty balance.

Come, let’s mix with those who’ve “made it,”

Silver spoons who gold-engraved it

strollin with those who “have it all,”

Their voices loud, their hearts so small.

Where silver spoons stir golden lies,

And filters gloss their hollow eyes.

We chase the watch, the car, the phone,

To feel less haunted when alone.

We build our worth on fleeting things,

Then wonder why the silence stings.

We work the jobs that drain our fire,

To buy the chains we most admire.

To flash a life we cannot feel,

And numb the ache with every deal.

And all to dance at Ritz’s gate,

Where time and soul depreciate.

A showroom dream, a showroom face ,

A showroom heart in showroom grace.

So put it on, that stitched facade,

Bow to the market, praise the god.

The altar’s built of ads and screens,

Of fast desires and faded dreams.

But hush ——

If you’re blue and don’t know why

The joy feels fake, the hours fly,

It might be this:

The gilded cage you’ve built with pride

Was just a velvet noose inside.

Puttin’ on the Ritz —-

Or putting out the light.

What ever you do,

You still feel dead inside.......

By Kaavin Farwaha