In whispered corners, secrets loom,
Their whispers hum like impending doom.
Within the heart, they quietly jest,
A sarcastic smirk, a cynical quest.
Their whispers hum like impending doom.
Within the heart, they quietly jest,
A sarcastic smirk, a cynical quest.
Like clowns in a circus, they parade,
Their allure a joke, a charade.
Their power wanes in the light of day,
A farce we play, a comedy's sway.
In quiet murmur, they mock and tease,
A punchline lost in the breeze.
Their burden light, a cosmic jest,
A joke we tell, with no rest.
The whispered word, a witty quip,
In hidden corners, they let it rip.
They shape our lives with a sardonic twist,
A satire we can't seem to resist.
But oh, the laughter that secrets bring,
A hollow echo, a sarcastic ring.
A jokester's touch, a prankster's glee,
In their embrace, we find no glee.
Yet still we're drawn, like fools we play,
To secrets wrapped in ironic dismay.
For in their grip, we find our jest,
A funny, sarcastic test.
So let them linger in their jest,
Those secrets told in jest.
For in their comedic dance,
We find the humor in our chance.