I think I’m a funny person, 

At least, I try to be. 

I want to be a funny person,

At least, how others see.

I listen long, and listen hard, 

Memorizing patterns of conversation,

Playing them back in my head,

Teaching myself how to speak.

I see how others interact, 

And try my best to mimic them,

But when I do, I’m not myself, 

But more a puppet on their strings.

For when I do not play the part,

My costume falls away,

I am left alone on stage, 

mumbling my play.

Maybe the audience that night was unforgiving, 

maybe they weren’t at the right show?

Or maybe it was my fault for performing,

I really do not know. 

Putting on a show they did not pay for, nor want, 

Never truly appreciating my masterpiece of work, 

Because how could they ever understand it?

Sometimes, when I go to different theaters, 

And use the same meter, 

And the box office sells more tickets, 

My audience doesn’t sound like crickets.

and I wonder, if my act was never the problem, 

and I wonder, if my audience was.