Here is one of those gimmicky poems that people love so much. Roll your cursor over the optimistic lines and watch them wash away, go on I dare you. I was inspired by my friend RS Pinner‘s short story called Passing Misconception which was written a long time ago and he’s only just got around the publishing it. Mine on the other hand was spat out mere seconds ago. Enjoy!
I was lucky to be born. Thanks to doctors and modern technology. I nearly wasn’t. They had to pull me out like a stubborn secret.
My head’s a funny shape from the forceps — it never bothered me. The forceps left their autograph. The mirror never quite forgets.
I had a lot of friends. I was popular enough for a geeky boy. Enough to keep the silence at bay, not enough to trust the quiet.
Maybe I should ask my son. He’d probably roll his eyes and walk away.
Watching him be born was a miracle. Miracles bleed and scream. It was painful to watch.
Now I see so much of me in him, and yet so much that’s his own. He’s my reflection and my replacement, both at once.
I can’t control his life. I can only control myself. Control is a polite illusion. I barely hold the wheel.
I breathe the air and take in the moment. The moment wriggles away as I hold it.
I drink in the sweet liquor of existence. There’s always a bitter aftertaste.
This moment is all we ever really have, and my now is full. The moment fades even as I name it. Fullness leaks away.
And that’s how it feels to be a happy-sad clown. Just some douchebag who writes poems.
