Playing With Faces

As crowd becomes dizzy, city dips into murk
Though flesh gets lazy, my head jumps to work
With hush in abundance, tranquility tickles the mind
I wish this brutal cosmos were always so kind

The faces I see daily are so misleading
I never know if they are euphoric or bleeding
Faces are often not as obvious as they look
They own the shrewdness of an agile crook

Those faces stare mine and give different name
Alas, alas, they sound anything but the same
They call me a terror, they call me a saint
Perhaps I am everything, everything I ain't

I often see my face in that old dusty mirror
As a desperate attempt to make myself clearer
As always, I lose in this age old game
But one day, I will gift myself a name

The pigeons outside are seizing peace
The golden rays are about to fleece
We'll try reading those faces again
Without ignoring that tinge of feign