disguise

seductive geishas
of emptiness, illusions
are luring me
out of my wits
with their mirthless lullaby
of cherry blossoms

cherry blossoms
qith their pink sensation
epitomize beauty
beyond comparison
dangling in
the huddling crowd
of my thoughts

thoughts of cherry blossoms
and geishas
are mere illusions
of gaiety

could i still
appreciate them
when i'll see them
in the muddy earth
stripped of their appalling beauty
with nothingness
except the squalid judgment
of the society
attached to
their ripped soul?