i do think some-
times, i am a little glum,
it takes much
effort, such
muscles in my cheek to bring
the corners up. because there’s a well-known thing
about hiding your glum. it makes you feel fake like the plastic
in the ocean, like the adverts on tv, like your tone’s all sarcastic
when you don’t really say what you mean. it makes you feel like
all you have is the fake shell surrounding you, a self-made pike
for your head some day off in the future when all of it will fall
back on you, there will lay your crushed shell, and then eyes stall
to gaze upon your self-made destruction. i don’t think i need to wait
for that miserable day. let me crack the shell myself before it’s late
for we all know that misery likes company, let us frown
together, wrinkle our foreheads, and let the tears drown
out the voices that tell us to smile. let us grimace,
mutter and whine, express what’s within us
let our smiling shells retire
if we should so desire.
keep it, if you want
i’m nonchalant,
only selfish
of my
wish.