Poem: The Farce – 20/06/20

There are days
when I feel incredibly down,
I can’t turn the corners and curves
of my mind
back up and around,
my stage presence is moot,
I’d like to crawl back in the pages
of my life’s former books,
and relive the wonderful stages.
But I cannot control myself,
my miserable entity
seems intent on being
desperately distraught and utterly contrary.
These pages upon which I stand,
I used to dance, flip, make cartwheels
of fun,
the best I’d ever had.
But now I am temperamental,
a modern-day grump,
have I reached a plateau?
I’ve simply had enough.
What is the use
in whimpering and wallowing,
so depressive these pages
surely are to read?
I cannot fathom
why the sudden mood change?
From a joyous high
to catastrophic dips.
I’d like to be happier,
cheerful like during
the days, weeks, months prior,
but my soul seems intent on
allowing itself to have something, unseen,
dragging it down.
I force my eyes to brighten,
to beam a vivid, gleaming smile,
perhaps I can seduce the crowd
into believing this farce for a while.
Then the mask slips,
they quickly realise who and what I am,
a woman in costume,
bearing herself,
revealing, with little success,
the best side that she can.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
Image by 5598375 from Pixabay

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