The Mime

Silenced, ridicuoled and trapped, the epitome of powerlessness.

Facing enemies that no one sees
Pushing black gloves against my prison’s boundaries
Speak I may try but no sound comes out
Muteness guarantee the pointlessness of crying out

With a black and white shirt, face paint and beret to match
All laugh while at the invisible box walls I do scratch
Cursed to look like a silent comedic entertainer
My tears are just another pantomime, this box is my container

For a long time I tried
To tell the patrons the reason I cried
However I had to give up the fruitless endeavor
Leading to deterioration of myself and my emotion, the connection between them I did sever

On the ground I lay
Playing dead as it becomes less of an act every day
Freedom a far away dream
My mouth frozen open in a silent scream

In vain occasionally I push against the walls again
Taking a deep breath each time I fail, trying to find a way to embrace the doctrine of zen
An elusive ruthless force exacerbates the pain known as time
Reminding me my misery will never be heard for I am condemned to forever be a mime