No matter my crisis,
There’s one thing I know-
Even when I’m at my lowest,
I still make the ******* joke.

The room goes quiet,
So I start to smile.
Deflecting pain like an actress,
It never goes out of style.

Tears sting behind my eyes,
But I deliver the line clean.
And everyone laughs,
Because no one knows what the **** it means.

My hurt has a laugh track-
Invisible, robotic, rehearsed.
And if I keep it playing loud enough,
Maybe I won’t feel the worst.

Because silence feels like sinking,
And truth feels like a loss.
But a joke? That’s a win.
Misery is humor’s final boss.