Composure lost.
Skin broken
The whispers continue.
'Come on.' I whisper to myself.
I trip.
Feet trample.
Spittle drowns me💦.
Hands pull me down--
An outcast in a city of castaways.
We all had our protective gear⛑️during the pandemic,
the bear caves we dug in isolation.
It's come and gone--
But our gears⛑️are still there,
the armor remains,
numerous restrictions🔗imposed on it
guarded with our very existence🔒.
When taken, we lose all reasoning
Turning rabid.
You thought I was gone👣?
Look again🤥.
I once had a brother🤼♂️
You needed him; you begged for him,
Promising in all truthfulness
An invitation to play🪆.
A scalpel to my face,
Digging in for my flesh and blood.
But do you know what?
He was never returned.
You never brought him back.
Instead, you force me to watch in desperation.
As you use him to cover for your misdeeds.
Your heinous crimes I pay for in blood🥲.
An IOU🗃️owed by generations
for countless eras.
You all mock me for knowing only laughter.
Juggling my sticks and balls🤹♂️
Rolling and jumping,
Making you laugh.
I become your object of rebuke.
But such merry fools you are,
Leaning in dust to catch raindrops☔.
A secret unknown,
I give thou❄️,
You use him.
You become me.
Yours Sincerely,
Joker🃏.
YOU ARE READING
FLEETING THOUGHTS
General FictionWriting poems for the blues. To let my inner voice have her own podium. Just for fun actually. Or maybe not, depends on how you interpret it, It still all depends on the human mind And heart in the end.
