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⸻ WHEN THE PUNCHLINE DIES IT HITS MY FUNNY BONE , WE ALWAYS GET THE LAST LAUGH ON A RUNNING JOKE ⸻
Laughter is always the best medicine.
That was what people had taught you as you grew up to be a person who people would separate you differently from the being that had taken your own skin and it dared call itself as you, introduced itself as you, and mimicked how you would act.
It mocked your very own existence, you felt the knot in your own stomach twist and turn yet you were taught to never hurt anyone regardless of their agendas, and you lived by that wording. Yet as it continued to spread its existence, the feeling of a sense of envy crawled its way towards you, the feeling one would want to kill and hunt down.
Your own chest hurts, the knife in your stomach felt like it was turning as time ticked loudly, signalling of your own very execution. That day when you looked at the shattered mirror, was when you realised the thing that had been spreading its existence as 'you', was the carbon copy of the child you never got to be.
And that carbon copy, you killed it long ago.
Now the mask of a fool laid silently on the ground, as stifled giggles was heard from behind you. 'They' promised you a new story, a story who you would be introduced as the poet rather than the muse.
For as long as you bore the tragedies that your mask held, they promised you that you would be the lead, rather than the follower.
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AUTHOUR'S note; hihi i dedcided to rewrite stars cuz it was so stinky and bad and and very smelly
anyways this book heavily references many things, anyways ty for reading hope u guys aren't disappointed
