The Anxious Brows Poem by Henry Tong

You are the anxious brows
when the eyes are catching flame
when they wink in fashion
but lose sight in contented names.

They see the flags arise in mounts;
they gaze at the grandeur of Space.
The lens has too long stuck in them-
until the real world is erased.

They live a life in a phantom of glory
and salute to the glasses, Hooray Hooray!
But you see clearly, aren't you, Brows?
They conform to being preys.

The instant sensation, the groundless rage,
the inflating arrogance, the ebbing shame.
You can feel what eyes should see,
take off the glasses, and refuse to be tamed!