At the show

I feel like I’m falling apart,
repercussions from life’s incidents
causing constant stress,

My mouth, neck and throat, speaking a language
I don’t understand.

When I’m smacked upside the head.

“Who do you think you are?
You, who can think, and talk, and operate independently.”

Startled I reply,

I am me. I’m supposed to be fully-functioning, in perfect physical health, not subjected to such discomfort.

Who are you?

I am slapped again.

“I am life and you are in the show.
When I let you in there were no guarantees.

Your small discomforts the price of admission.

So don’t fret, your performance will be over soon.
And the show will go on.

Best you enjoy your scenes,
contribute to making them better, if you can.

Focus on me, life as it is.
Sure, try and improve me,
but without but expectations.

And be glad you were given a part.”

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