How difficult it is to survive
the emergence of the routine
that is everyday?
The madness that is to conform,
chipping and chiseling at yourself
unless someone else takes a hammer to you.
When that is not enough,
there will be a blade.
With your own hands if not others’,
it will go inside and empty you
of what you were.
And then when all that is to be done,
I will present myself to them.
A deformed, and wretched version of what I once was.
Devoid of anything that was me,
devoid of anything that had unparalleled value.
A hollow, twisted trophy
to what they are capable of,
and a testament of my own inability.
This is what I shall offer.
When they’re looking at me,
beaming and proud
at the handiwork they asked for,
I will smile.
The smile will not be enough
and I shall laugh.
Laugh until hurts,
laugh in a manner that is unrestrained.
Laugh at the memory of who I could have been,
laugh at who I have become.
And then I will laugh because
I will be the only one laughing for it.
There will be no one there
to appreciate why.
And before my laugh merges
with theirs, I will know
that the joke is on them.
Written for day 3 of NaPoWriMo. The prompt was to use non Greco-Romian mythology. I couldn’t come up with anything, I chose the option to free style. Using an old poem of mine that has not been on the blog.