ATHOUSAND MAN

I rub faces, with praises or teases,
Of ministers ushering souls to crystal clearness,
Yet the soot of the hearts would not let see snow.
Do as is said, not as is done so I u tell,

I rub faces with mentors and tormentors,
I heart bruised and confused
Without direction and sense of reason

I rub faces with strangers and beggars.
Hopeless and dirty in the day
lounge and relaxed in nightly paradise.
Can give but never sure who really to spare,
Within the soul,
I regret less
I give rubbing faces,
With truth and lairs
Desperation and deception

And again I rub faces
For then I smell
What defines man