Too Overwhelming [rev] Poem by Margaret Alice Second

I do not like playing the subservient role of Sister
Sunshine agreeing with everything, being sincere
feigning worry about pains and aches and worst is
because my behaviour is inconsistent I don't play
the role very well, thus people know what's going
on without being told - telepathy is real and we're
tuned to a non-sensory line which reveals our
feelings to each other

When food causes my brain to spasm between an
apogee of red existential pain and the perigee of
black nihilism I transmit mixed signals - and when
life returns to bluish calm and soft daydreams, I'm
still surprised to find I've made no friends since all
reacted to my mental storm by withdrawing; we're
admonished to make friends here on earth to meet
them again in the life hereafter, but that

Advice has never applied to my life; I blame myself
for a fellow sister openly turning away while I spoke,
then running with bubbling enthusiasm to the Mother
Abbess & Sister Longsuffering in this holy convent
dedicated with religious fervour to Language Studies
and Translation Practices; an open snub challenging
me to acknowledge such - yet open hostilities would
be awful - and I take pride in my ability to play

The wide-eyed innocent, I made the role of Candide
my own ages ago - and thank Voltaire for his cynical
appraisal clothed in wonderment, it fuels my words
and inspires my act when the need to hide my real
self becomes an essential strategy for survival - a
need to mislead myself when the truth becomes
too overwhelming to acknowledge…