I’m not as smart like Albert Einstein nor am I a creative person,
I can’t paint like Vincent Van Gogh,
or tell a great story like William Shakespeare.
I’m a joke compared to those guys, as sad as it sounds.
it’s true. My problems always get the best of me
even if I am able to overcome them.
I’m just a joke that rarely ever sees the light of day.
That joke that is gets blown away quietly, and
gently by calm wind and its mystical whistles that flows throughout life.

I can’t write down my thoughts.
Because it always different from what I think,
It’s always a diluted version and it’s never gonna taste the same.
It’s a hard assignment and I seem to have no control of the situation.
So I joke around and mask my depression under a jokes and laughter
I hideaway my pain and weakness under the mask.

Jokes,
I rely on them a bit too much..
It’s a part of my mask, that distracts people from my flaws.
A barricade that I put up towards people.
I reside in the darkness where I find comfort, peace and quiet.
It’s a paradise to hideaway and shelter myself from the world.
I always thought low of myself but now that I’ve grown.
I’ve outgrown the mask.
The very same mask that would carry me through the day.
The one that I wouldn’t dare to take off.
But it’s getting old, and I’m happier without it.
So I tore it off with force and tore it to shreds with the knowledge of that it’s been with me ever since I was a little kid but I’ve grown.
In breaking the mask of distraction.
I ensured myself that I won’t have to ever put it back on.

I break thy chains of binding,
binding me to this deep depression that I hold from within.
It takes a toll on me and takes control of my life. Disorienting  my point of view of the world, and my life. It may have been a burden but the mask that I once wore has been broken down to bits and pieces. I’ve felt like I’ve broken free of thy chains of binding, that binds me to this prison cell. That I once was a prisoner to.