“Laughter is the best medicine.”
Is it really? Five letters for those who believe this, SORRY. If you’re confused, ask Joker.
Laughter is contagious pus inside my body.
It is a mellifluous sound yet a torture one like how I was being humiliated in front of the crowd.
Every laugh of random people drowns me like I obviously couldn’t surpass their judgment.
Laughter that makes me feel like I am more than a person with disability who doesn’t deserve to live.
People with beautiful faces who pinch my face telling me to wake up and stop holding my hopes.
Rich fellows who bring me to a labyrinth full of metal bars for I should not exist in their world.
Continuously slap me with an ignominy, warning me to check my grammar before I speak in front of them.
Good writers who accuse me for being entitled as the “copy paste master” stealing one’s masterpiece.
Tulips don’t really exist in our land, so don’t I.
Underachiever until now for I do not have such entitlements, so laugh.
How can I forget you? How will I forget you?
Your laugh is my Karma.
Oh how will I forget your beautiful faces that made me resemble myself as a rock, rough, tough, cold.
The wind of your laugh that pushes me away from the world you live.
But this rock, no matter how ambiguous her words are as her life, she will continuously roll until reaches the mountain, until she becomes the mountain.
Laughter is the one who pretends to be one’s medicine. Just stay away and leave me alone.
Maybe your laugh seems familiar to me, but sorry, I don’t even know you. Sorry, but I can cure myself.