facade

Humor keeps me intertwined

   with these silhouettes of mine--

Silhouettes of doubt and fear,

   shadowed, yet still crystal clear.

 

The path is worn and faded--still,

   I feel through the power of will

That a cruel front of satisfaction

   will give me some kind of traction.

 

And so I laugh and put on a show;

   the world's a play, the puppets know,

And yet here I am, not delving into

   the jokes or laughs I swear as true.

 

But sometimes my humor

   is not wanted nor needed--

And from its pedestal,

   it's found receded.

 

But still, I laugh, and put on a show,

   for the world's a play, the final blow

Of the final act will leave you spinning

   so don't contemplate it and you'll be winning.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741