You laugh at them. You point your finger and call them a fool. Their silence amuses you, their gentleness becomes your joke, and the crowd joins your laughter as if kindness were weakness. It feels enjoyable today, sweet on your tongue like careless victory. Their patience becomes your stage, their humility your entertainment. But time is a quiet witness. It watches without speaking, It writes its lessons slowly in the turning pages of life. A day will come When laughter turns into tears. The echoes of your mockery will return to your own ears like thunder across an empty sky. Situations will arise without warning, storms without hands to beat you Yet heavy enough to break your pride. Pain will arrive quietly, And you will feel the trembling of a heart that once laughed too loudly. And that fool, that funny person you once mocked, may stand in the distance, not laughing, but witnessing your tears, your shaking voice, Your falling ego. For life has a patient way of bending the tallest p...
It wasn’t from my heart,
the laughter, I mean.
It rose on cue,
light as paper,
folded neatly at the edges
so no one would see the creases.
The smile too,
placed carefully
where a smile was meant to be,
like a painting hung
to cover a crack in the wall.
There are rooms
that require brightness,
tables that expect cheer,
streets that reward
the well-rehearsed grin.
So I wore it,
that curved disguise,
as naturally as a coat in winter.
No one asked
if it was warm enough inside.
That is how life is, isn’t it?
A daily theater,
with no rehearsal
and endless performances.
We learn the script early:
laugh here,
nod there,
say I’m fine
when the echo inside you
answers otherwise.
Not every smile is real.
Not every laugh is born
from joy.
Some are stitched together
from obligation and survival,
from the simple need
to move through the day
without explanation.
And still,
behind the practiced light,
a quieter truth breathes.
Soft. Unseen. Waiting.
Because even in pretence,
there is a pulse.
Even in the act
there is someone real
standing just behind the curtain,
hoping one day
the smile won’t have to be placed,
it will simply arrive.
That is life.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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