I am an act, one for your amusement.
I jester and you applaud.
The jokes are not the words but my presence.
You laugh and I carry on
as if with every sharp roll of the eye I am not being sawed.
Still, I show
still, I hope
still, I try and pull the silk tied rope that just seems to never end.
Another day I arrive, but with every day a part of me vanishes.
Let's just examine this.
You’ve taken my legs.
You’ve taken my soul.
My tongue is near gone, and once the hands go that will be my last toll.
My hands are my craft.
Power flows through them.
Render me powerless.
Spin me on the wheel, blindfold yourselves, and target my wrists.
What will the act be when I fully disappear?
No box with a secret compartment.
No secrets, I fear.
You cannot push me back together,
sew what has been dismembered.
The magic is strong but only when the audience stays tethered.
About the Creator
Ashley Wrigley
The truth can be covered by words of fiction and rhyme. However, if you dig deep enough to the core you might be amazed what truths you will find inside.
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More stories from Ashley Wrigley and writers in Poets and other communities.
Thoughts on Vocal and the way the world is
"Death cannot stop true love, only delay it." – Wesley in The Princess Bride. I decided to come back to Vocal on a very cold and dark night at the end of December. I had been, and still am, convalescing from a horrible staph infection that had gone misdiagnosed for months. This, paired with the increasing challenges of being healthy, making the best choices for my co-parented child, being a wife, and being a director at a new job, was a lot to manage.
By Jazzy 4 days ago in Confessions
Comments (1)
Gosh this was so heartbreaking and it hit me so hard. Loved your poem!