Not Your Typical Literary Masterpiece: AKA My Mood

Part 15: Am I a Joke?

Yeah, it's cliché, I know,

My life's a scripted, worn-out show.

Strolled past the feels, numb and cold,

In my crumbling heels, stories untold.

Did what I could, but what's the use?

Everything I touch turns to excuse

.Died a thousand summers, lost and torn,

Your dagger words pierce, a crown of thorns.

But go on, throw your daggers, make 'em fly,

Then hand me the band-aids, oh so sly.

Laugh it off, give a hug, say it's fine,

I'll keep grinning wide, hide the real signs.

I'm a bore, they say, well, how grand,

Why not lend a hand, give me a handstand?

You've never thought of anyone but you,

Thanks for the honesty, here's your due.

There's nothing for you here, that's clear,

But hey, listen close, my dear:

None of this really matters in the end,

We'll just rewind and play pretend.

You've got an army, I've got a blade,

Facing your shadows, with no aid.

I'm not unique here, just one in the line,

Expected to fall, just a matter of time.

But don't let me forget this cruel truth,

For I've been a joke since my youth.

To everyone else, I'm just that clown,

No grand expectations, let me drown.

So I'll keep bleeding on this crushed glassy path,

hoping for a future, hoping it won't be last.

One day I'll bow out, don't worry -it's true,

But that's no surprise, it's been long overdue.