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.