The Joke

There’s a popular saying:
“You either die a hero or live long enough
to see yourself become the villain.”

I’ve experienced a different version:
“You either die a lover or fight long enough
for love to see yourself become a joke.”

Yes, I am nothing more than a joke
to many people who’ve known me.
My friends think I’m stupid,
and some don’t even talk like before.
Who on earth prefers a joker for a friend?

Every word I express through writing
about unrequited love and loss
is nothing but a wail to many.
Many don’t notice that those words mean
more than the wail of a stupid person.

My words carry the burden of
helplessness and unwavering hope,
pain, and never-ending suffering,
calls for help and support.
Yet here I am, still alive, proving my stupidity.

It’s clear, though, many don’t get it;
they probably must have been
having a good laugh reading each word I say.
Including you, my love.
Maybe it’s an indication that,
at a time you’re also drifting away,
all I deserve at the end of the day is
a public’s laugh.