Frown

Frown

 

They tell me,

“It takes more muscles to frown than to smile.”

What do they want?

To me, that sounds lazy.

No, I’m giving effort and strength.

I’m buffing up my face.

Stronger than the smilers.

Besides, gravity’s the greatest helper.

And frowning is so comfortable.

 

They tell me,

“Pretend until you are. Smile until you’re happy.”

What do they want?

I tried that, and I only

Became angry. Frowning’s become part

Of my personality. Now I don’t want

To give it up.

It’s just so comfortable.

 

 

They tell me,

“Lighten up, act your age, you’re young yet.”

What do they want!

And what do they know of me?

Perhaps every one of my smile’s fake, practiced,

Well thought out in front of a mirror.

Perhaps psychopathic emotions are all that’s left.

Perhaps I frown, because that’s all that’s left.

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