It was a joke

Such a cruel, sick joke

The type of joke that your best friend pulls on you

When you are sleeping

The one that leaves you paranoid for weeks to come

That type of joke


The type of joke that your little brother does when you took the last cookie

But he sits there and laughs as you check your heart rate

To make sure that every bone is still there

That type of joke


And I had figured that for a while

This would be a forever game

But I never saw that you were a jester

A regular comedian

That loved to play jokes on gullible ladies

Like myself


Like some toy gun in a children's store

That when the trigger is pulled

A flag shoots out that reads BANG

And the hyena laughter protrudes from the innocent mouths of a five year old

But sadly, your mouth is not so innocent

Therefore your laughter emanates the room with a putrid odor

That only smells of lies and broken hearts


Holding that gun to my head

My palms sweating, my heart pounding

Wishing that you would just shoot me

So that I could live without you and and not be sad

Hoping that you would leave me dead, so that I would no longer feel pain


When your sly fingers swept the trigger

And a flag shot out that read BANG

My heart went BANG too

Because I would have much rather been shot and killed by you

Then to have to have been made a joke

And suffer knowing you laughed


-Chloe Aldecoa


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741