Tough Crowd

It’s not funny.

People are out here hurting,

Doing whatever they can to fill their voids to mask their open wound.

And you laugh at that?

You find humor in them like they aren’t doing the same thing as the rest of us

Sure, their methods may be different, but who are you to judge?

Do you love them?

Clearly not because with love comes constructive criticism

And there is nothing helpful about the way you demolish them with your wrecking ball words.

The next time you want to speak on them, ask yourself what others might say about you if they could see your torment the way you have witnessed theirs-

On the outside, breaking in- fingers pressed against the pane judging so hard that you don’t see how the glass is cracking

Shattering into a million pieces.

Caving in by the pressure the world gives to “have it all figured out”

How could you understand when you suppress your own hurt and anger

Jokes.

Making a mockery of your own sorrows won’t make them go away

But making a mockery of someone else’s has fatal potential,

To put them away in a wooden box 6 feet under where finally people will only speak on the good they’ve done

But they won’t be around to hear it

It will be too late.

It’s not funny.