Tragic Comedy
Dawg
Stop me if you’ve heard this one.
I’ll try to make you smile.
Maybe my sarcastic humor
will keep you smirking for a while.
A rope walked into a bar —
“We don’t serve your kind.”
So it walked out, unwinding in its mind,
tied itself into a bow,
walked back in and took a seat.
“Aren’t you the rope I threw out?”
The rope shook its head,
tassel spinning: “Nope. I’m a frayed knot.”
You catch the joke, right?
A play on words so old,
simple and absurd.
But it serves my purpose —
blurring what’s clear,
mixing up meanings of what you hear.
Ask me anything,
I’ll respond with a quip.
It’s the best defense I’ve got.
Ask me something serious,
I’ll toss back a jest.
Search for a deeper meaning —
it’s not there to find.
I’ll stay safe behind my punchline,
hidden from your mind.
Ask me how I’m feeling,
I’ll say “fleshy and warm.”
Tap dance in a mud puddle
to ignore the coming storm.
Whatever you throw at me,
I’ve got a line to say —
a distraction while I keep
my truths at bay.
As you think we’re growing closer,
trying to peer inside,
my witty remarks and sarcasm
shield what I hide.
It’s such a tragic comedy —
you’ll laugh till you cry.
Don’t ask me to be serious.
It scares me to the core.
I’ll sit here alone,
joking with my final encore.
I’ll leave you laughing,
one last joke before I go.
Sometimes I think my life’s
the biggest jest I know.
Walk away from me.
It’s all I have to give —
just me, my sheltered psyche,
and my collection of quips.