So I watch
And I listen
and I laugh
at the joke the fates have whispered to me.
No one else seems to hear it...
It’s not quite so funny, you see
The pitter patter of the pity...
You can hear it, you see,
you can see it, actually.
“It’s a small thing amongst friends”
a small thing to see in a stranger’s face:
the twinge of sadness,
confusion,
relief for themselves.
They look at me, seeing what they will never be.
They see, though, what could happen, terribly,
1 in 100,
in 1,000,
10,000, maybe.
And so I watch.
And I listen.
As they whisper,
and they wonder,
and they worry.
And I laugh
at the joke that life telling me, mocking at me.
But it’s not quite so funny, you see,
that whispering of the Wonderers
Asking over politely
But never listening intently
I’ll tell them all about it.
it seems such a small thing.
Listen.
It may be bigger than you see.
They say
“you look so healthy…”
Or
“You don’t look sick to me.”
But I’ll smile.
And I’ll laugh
at the joke that life is telling me.
You can’t hear it, darling.
And you don’t want to.
That’s okay.
It must be a joke anyway...
Nope. This is my life.
But what’s the difference either way?
I’ll smile.
I’ll laugh.
And they’ll hear one day.
“one day” will be today.
They will see.
Not just maybe.
I’ll tell them all about it.
And I’ll watch,
and I’ll listen.
The pitter patter will turn to applause.
pity will somehow be praise
and understanding.
such a thing to see in a stranger’s face;
so curious to me.
It’s not so funny you see,
it’s quite serious, actually.
this is the life that has been given to me.
I’ll joke about it, maybe.
but listen,
possibly you’ll see,
**What someone’s living
isn’t always what it appears to be.
