Tell me that joke, once again,
I need it, to make me smile,
I have been wading, with a frown,
a long whole bloody while.
But, maybe that joke, is the pain,
that comprises my poison pool,
I continue to swim in, day to day,
to refuel my deeds so cruel.
So, perhaps, instead of a joke,
tell me some aching truth,
that will give unto me clarity,
thus, in crying, I will soothe.
Hence, let me be less a joke,
so I can be one; that is more pure,
I know, I cannot be perfect,
but too much shame is on the floor.