consternation not constellation

insanity lulls you to sleep
your failing eyes are willing blind
every day a choice to rewind through
moments where the colour was blue
this is some kind of clue to who you are
in the tracks of a mental scar

you like to think you’ll become a star
but others make a protestation
when you’re recommended for a constellation
are you martyr to the hand of bland
that only a satirist can understand?
none of this was ever planned
the laughter though is canned
and you can cry on demand
because those characters spoke you
and the factory broke you

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