Why cany people take a joke?

As they crack the egg
scribble the yolk
taking only the white
due to its blandness,

the taste
s
a
l
t
y
yet that's how they like it.

Folks that see me
lonely standing by the road
waiting for someone to choose me

even just as a bystander,

At least look at me like I'm not a monster

or a loner that had to fight her way

to the mountain,
then pushed in the end.

Prevented by a crowd
that had embedded me a
    h
       e
         r
          e
             t
               i
                 c,
though I swore,
I was not matched.

I would have given a limb
to even be part of such group of troops

mentally strong
and physically coped with each other as their nest.

Comforting words that flow from their mouths
to the ears of another,
I wanted that
yet I had

no one.

Pointing a Gun to the sky
I aimed at birds that flew high
yet never shot the bird that was left,

speaking sardonically,
it was weak
and had no taste of flesh.

If smoked would be just feathers.
Easiest to catch
yet flesh of other words.

I liked to talk,
I was tumultuous
was that the reason why they didn't like me?

I raved in silence

that they can't see.

Perhaps if I opened up
they would know the fee I fared
to reach the top,

maybe by sympathy
they could acquiesce me
to be who I was there

and not someone else of silence

that listened and was pushed around to do.
Sardonic I was,
to express my loneliness
yet had so many people

I felt friendless.
As if there was only one of me in the world,
I hurled and bantered,
to the point, I couldn't be

, therefore, deteriorating to white dust,
now part of sands that flew with the ocean.

Traveling even if empty was in motion