Sense of Humour
No it’s not funny,
That joke you just made,
Of my trauma, of my identity.
It’s time to educate you,
On what a sense of humour means,
If you think laughing at someone’s pain cool, .
You have a lot to learn, honey.
Next time before you say you have OCD,
Because you moved a fork,
That was upside down,
But not giving you any misery,
Think, do you really want OCD?
The crippling anxiety?
Next, you make a rape joke,
Think of what it means,
And who it might enable,
Your locker room talk.
Before you shun my trauma,
And hide behind dark humor,
Or gallows talk,
Or worse, claiming you can make fun of my misery,
For that’s how I, a survivor, copes,
Remember, you are not me,
And my trauma is not yours to laugh and demean.
Before you judge me,
Because I am not smiling,
At your lack of humanity,
Perhaps it’s time you see,
What a douchebag it makes you,
To disrespect someone’s trauma,
To blatantly mess with trigger warnings,
Just for a laugh,
That would be forgotten in the morning,
But the scars? The memories?
Would run on and on,
Creating misery,
Imagine if you were the recipient,
Of a sense of humor,
That invalidated your trauma, your identity,
How would that feel?
Not very funny.
