To be con’t… (A poem by Jack)

I’m exasperated.. Too tired of being too tired… The pressure is bone jolting.. The aloneness is suffocating..I been at it too long.. 

I cry at night.. For only through my suffering will you allow me sleep..

Yet I’m still naive enough to believe your folktale.. Heck I live for your folklore.. Centered my entire life around the reality of your folktale..

Time and time I’ve been made a fool.. Others have warned.. But I kept faith.. It’s like you take pleasure in my naïveté.. I can almost feel the vibes of your snickers…you used to bother to at least laugh behind my back..

Be Careful what you ask for they warned.. Then why the fuck am I getting everything I sought to avoid…everything I wept not to have.. You brought it right to me and force fed it down my throat..

A cruel joke your narrative turned out to be..

You hide behind the sun.. The moon.. The hopes… And pains of an entire people..

That’s both your shield and your source..

Release me.. Release me from your spell… I’m too tired and I done gave up..

Release me from your twisted fairytale.. I no longer have the foolishness to go on… 

But just when I’m at my wits in…

 It’s that small glimmer of inspiration that shines through..

The bait.. And I swear you me… I fall for it every time.. And the cycle continues.. As the story is told..

The story that never ends..

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