Silence and Laughter
I've been too serious lately
with my melancholy thoughts and half-moon eyes
Always dying, always dying, always dying inside
But not ever really.
Now, yes of course dying inside, the way that insides do die-
all the little cells crashing and colliding silently
Always dying, always dying, always dying inside of me
But not ever really the 'whole' me.
My stoic faceless expressions
are part of my handiwork in crafting depressions
in my heart and mind and future and sense of self
In death I have always found myself willing.
Now a smile is creeping loudly in
gladly silencing the funeral tones that ring out
heavy as the dark of night underneath a rock
In life I have always found myself laughing.
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