Numbness is a cruel jest,
Sadness a farce,
Happiness a facade.
Make a play out of sanity,
Dressing up in feelings we don't truly grasp.
Pretend you're happy—
Laugh loudly, wear a mask of cheer.
Be bubbly, so others seek your company,
Make jokes and watch them laugh,
Feign clumsiness to blend in,
As if being “normal” were a performance.
Cry when it seems appropriate,
Emulate sorrow when you think you should,
Yet the tears feel hollow,
An empty script for a role you can’t quite inhabit.
Why must I act out emotions I can't truly grasp?
Am I the fool for not deciphering
This chaotic play of so-called feelings?
Is my inability to regulate these false constructs
A joke in itself?
I am lost in this masquerade,
A performer in a tragic farce,
Struggling to understand why emotions feel
Like distant echoes in a hollow room.
Is the real absurdity my own confusion,
A misunderstanding of how to live with what others take for granted?
YOU ARE READING
The Things We Left Unsaid
PoesíaThe actions of others, for the people they left behind.
