Punch Line

My fear
Of dropping dead
Is the joke
Which keeps
On playing

Each time
This heart remembers
To beat
Even when
It skips

Wondering
Why I’m scared
Despite
That constant
Giggle

From losing breath
Too quickly
As I realize
All must
Pass

And fall
Through what
May end
While forevers
Wholly empty

Assume those laughs
Tomorrow
Are the tears
We always
Shed

Today
Before that ledge
Near the mic
Our hearts
Should punish

For adoring
Crowded theaters
Filled
With tragic
Jest

On stage
Without much luck
Baring pain
Of acts
Committed

Like a curtain
Falling swiftly
Where the skit
Continues
Still

Begging
One more quip
Or bit
Which keeps them
Guessing

If the story
Sold as humor
Is a truth
Few dare
To speak

Parading
Sold-out shows
As a triumph
Born of
Envy

Jealous
Smiling faces
Clutter
The first few
Rows

Ignorant
While they grin
And roar
At fake
Misfortunes

Forgetting
No such audience
Is exempt
When lights
Go dark

Staring
Into their glass
As comedy
Echoes
What faces

Of a rare
And living mirror
Reflect
That final
Wish

To be heard
And equally scared
Of the act
Which opens
Feelings

Applying fate
Through chuckles
And shrieks
For similar
Gags

A stand-up
Invitation
To relate
From sheer
Morbidity

Insane
And oddly relevant
The more honest
Each farce
Gets

Believing
Some may care
Where others
May just
Snicker

Regardless
How they exit
Or refuse
The prank’s
On them.

– J. Pigno

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