No Longer Human: The Poem

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Slowly falling down, down, down

I descend into insanity

Desperate for attention


So I become

A CLOWN

What am I if not funny?

What is my use if I cannot amuse?


The things I say

Become more and more incincer

Psychotic things, delusional things, delirious things


Pushing me farther and farther

away from myself

the farther I get, it seems

the more I am liked, accepted as something that cannot be changed so it must be accepted.


a miserable way to live in society

but

at least I am allowed to stay

living on the fringes

ALONE


Until

I can no longer recognise

the creature

I have become


Like an animal in a circus

I have made myself exist to entertain


I can't stop now

a sudden change

and I

would lose everything

Everyone


they would realise

that I am a liar, a snake, not to be trusted

for now I allow the scales of madness to hide me


They see me as a joke

I am sure of it

a source of laughter


The witty remarks that come so easily

after all this time


This is the way

I keep myself afloat

If I stop . . .


I shall surely drown


I fall deeper

I lose myself

to satisfy their demand

the demands that I think they have

the demands I have for myself


Bit by bit

I break down

and reassemble myself

until I am such

a patchwork of personalities

that I can't find

the real me

(if there is one) anymore


I look deep inside myself

I am LOST


But do I want to be found?

What if I don't like what I find?

What if it isn't good enough?


Is this good enough?


Can I be content with just good enough?

Am I willing to try to be more than just good enough?

Could I be more than just good enough?


Or am I just like this . . .

forever wandering

adrift

through space

unable to force myself

to exist on this plane?


Maybe I am just writing this because

I cannot fathom

myself


The fact that

this IS myself


The fact that

I have such an

Atrocious

Loud

Insensitive

Self degrading

personality


If this is true . . .

what kind of man

what kind of human

Am I . . .

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