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Make Me Laugh
- Make Me Laugh -
When I was a child, my dearest mother would tell me oft,
That I was far, far too serious, and did not smile enough.
But what did she ever do, to make me laugh or even sing?
She herself was far too serious, and cruelest in everything!
No one understood me, and I was bullied and provoked,
By all my peers and their pressures, and on that sad note...
My life was beset with tragedies, which did not ever relent.
The pain others inflicted on me, of it they did not repent!
Sorrow heaped upon sorrow, until my tears fell most hard,
Sadness grating on my nerves, making life feel like a war.
A struggle just to smile, just to feel like a child aught to!
Whilst I wondered oft, when my dreams would come true.
That is one version of how I first felt this persistent pain...
Sometimes I remember it differently, like some inky stain,
On a psychiatrist's inkblots, in which I see far too much.
How did my mind become so splintered, broken as such!
One day I found my nerves had broken to a nasty degree,
As I went to cry and instead I laughed ever so hysterically.
How ironic that this chronic problem keeps resurfacing...
For my mother wanted me to laugh more, I was noticing!
That was how it started, whatever insanity grips my soul.
Sometimes I wonder if I am possessed beyond all control,
By some spirit that is living my life whilst I am trapped...
Somewhere in my mind, where my destiny was mapped.
But no, I feel and see and do think with a lunatic's clarity,
That somehow this madness I bear is part of my destiny!
The world told me a joke, one I did not truly get before...
Even when my mother beat me, that awful drunk whore,
Who never stopped to think that a child might remember.
But I cannot forget, neither waking, nor lost in slumber...
All the horrible things people did to me, over long years.
Now when I paint my face, I laugh through all my tears!
Are you happy now, I ask, to whatever gods that exist...
As I paint my lips blood red and prepare as ever to resist.
Resist, rise, rebel and make the world know that I matter,
Because when I felt at my worst, this world did not care!
That is the biggest joke of all, that I am as I was created,
Molded and shaped in the crucible, in a fire as unabated.
I still feel the burn, the sting, the laughter that I embrace,
As every day I see the sun and my inner turmoil do face.
But I prefer the night to day, it somehow feels so secure!
The embrace of a mother, who cares truly and evermore.
I hear the sound of bats outside, the flap of many wings...
And recall how they are misunderstood, those gray kings.
People fear what they do not comprehend, this I do know,
For when bullies made me shake, they too shook in woe!
They saw in me something other, as not of this very Earth.
And, every rude insult, hastened me to my insane rebirth,
Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon set hotly ablaze...
Looking at the world feverishly, with eyes in a mad daze.
Its' wings on fire like a phoenix, fleeting yet so symbolic!
Would you beat me now, my mother the crass alcoholic?
You would not dare, seeing me as I have in time became.
For I too am like the phoenix, soaring with wings aflame!
Perhaps in that I am a symbol, something that cannot die,
And that makes me chuckle, and laugh and sing and sigh.
I cackle as the bats soar on, the autumn moon so large...
Which reminds me a bit of how of my life I am in charge.
Make me laugh, humanity, and watch my chaos ensue...
For I am the conflagration, the apocalypse coming true!
When I was a child, my dearest mother would tell me oft,
That I was far, far too serious, and did not smile enough.
But what did she ever do, to make me laugh or even sing?
She herself was far too serious, and cruelest in everything!
No one understood me, and I was bullied and provoked,
By all my peers and their pressures, and on that sad note...
My life was beset with tragedies, which did not ever relent.
The pain others inflicted on me, of it they did not repent!
Sorrow heaped upon sorrow, until my tears fell most hard,
Sadness grating on my nerves, making life feel like a war.
A struggle just to smile, just to feel like a child aught to!
Whilst I wondered oft, when my dreams would come true.
That is one version of how I first felt this persistent pain...
Sometimes I remember it differently, like some inky stain,
On a psychiatrist's inkblots, in which I see far too much.
How did my mind become so splintered, broken as such!
One day I found my nerves had broken to a nasty degree,
As I went to cry and instead I laughed ever so hysterically.
How ironic that this chronic problem keeps resurfacing...
For my mother wanted me to laugh more, I was noticing!
That was how it started, whatever insanity grips my soul.
Sometimes I wonder if I am possessed beyond all control,
By some spirit that is living my life whilst I am trapped...
Somewhere in my mind, where my destiny was mapped.
But no, I feel and see and do think with a lunatic's clarity,
That somehow this madness I bear is part of my destiny!
The world told me a joke, one I did not truly get before...
Even when my mother beat me, that awful drunk whore,
Who never stopped to think that a child might remember.
But I cannot forget, neither waking, nor lost in slumber...
All the horrible things people did to me, over long years.
Now when I paint my face, I laugh through all my tears!
Are you happy now, I ask, to whatever gods that exist...
As I paint my lips blood red and prepare as ever to resist.
Resist, rise, rebel and make the world know that I matter,
Because when I felt at my worst, this world did not care!
That is the biggest joke of all, that I am as I was created,
Molded and shaped in the crucible, in a fire as unabated.
I still feel the burn, the sting, the laughter that I embrace,
As every day I see the sun and my inner turmoil do face.
But I prefer the night to day, it somehow feels so secure!
The embrace of a mother, who cares truly and evermore.
I hear the sound of bats outside, the flap of many wings...
And recall how they are misunderstood, those gray kings.
People fear what they do not comprehend, this I do know,
For when bullies made me shake, they too shook in woe!
They saw in me something other, as not of this very Earth.
And, every rude insult, hastened me to my insane rebirth,
Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon set hotly ablaze...
Looking at the world feverishly, with eyes in a mad daze.
Its' wings on fire like a phoenix, fleeting yet so symbolic!
Would you beat me now, my mother the crass alcoholic?
You would not dare, seeing me as I have in time became.
For I too am like the phoenix, soaring with wings aflame!
Perhaps in that I am a symbol, something that cannot die,
And that makes me chuckle, and laugh and sing and sigh.
I cackle as the bats soar on, the autumn moon so large...
Which reminds me a bit of how of my life I am in charge.
Make me laugh, humanity, and watch my chaos ensue...
For I am the conflagration, the apocalypse coming true!
Published 23rd Oct 2019
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