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...
“Little psycho”
that’s the name you gave me,
wrapped in laughter,
served with a smile you thought convincing.
You said it like you had read me,
like you had mapped the pulse beneath my skin,
like my silence was madness
instead of measurement.
You read my energy wrong.
You danced in counterfeit joy,
acting light, acting harmless,
trying to tilt the board
before I even chose my side.
You thought I didn’t see the strategy
behind your grin.
Little did you know,
I am quiet,
but I am wise.
I don’t just enter games,
I study them.
While you celebrated your imaginary victory,
I was arranging pieces.
Not loudly.
Not hurriedly.
Just precisely.
You mistook my stillness for weakness.
You mistook my patience for confusion.
But I was never lost,
I was calculating.
And in return,
I made you a pawn
in a chess game you didn’t know
you were playing.
One small move,
and suddenly
your laughter shifted.
One silent decision,
and the board changed.
How does it feel
to be outplayed
by the “little psycho”?
Life, hey,
that’s it.
Sometimes the loudest player
isn’t the strongest.
Sometimes the quiet one
is already three moves ahead.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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