By Kathleen Locklear
I know I’m the comic relief in the story
Carrying the conversations, bringing the jokes and smiles and grins
When they are sad and down, crying hopeless tears, I am always there to collect the pieces, making frowns into smiles.
I know I’m the comic relief, yet I keep going with a smile.
Sometimes I wonder why I do it, why I keep trying to get them to grin and laugh.
Yet the next day when they are down I do it again, giving them hugs and saying jokes to make them smile again.
And the day after I’m cast aside.
I know I’m the comic relief
There for the smiles and the laughs, tossed aside the next second when my purpose is served.
I know no one will ask how I feel, that’s not my point after all, I’m not the main character.
I’m just the comic relief
And yet there I go again, laughing and joking and making more grins on down faces.
And the day after tossed aside again.
Oh I’ve tried a few times, to get their attention, talk about how I feel behind the smiles.
I get a smile and a pat on the back, get distracted by something I like and eventually forget about what happened.
Or at least they think I do.
“Oh it’s fine, it’s just a bad day, I’ll be fine”
I won’t be fine
I’m the comic relief of the story
And I’m tired of it.
Perhaps it’s time for the comic relief to become the antagonist…