Don’t.
Handing me your plastic smiles,
Don’t you have the decency to at least put them on a silver platter first?
I know you have many to spare.
Won’t.
Showing me your ivory carpet land,
Won’t you at least be polite enough to offer me some caviar?
I know you aren’t lacking it.
Can’t.
Escaping from this immaculate world,
Can’t you tell them you don’t want all these hands to kiss?
I know you want to tell them.
