The Boy Who Cried

You knew it would go wrong.
You said it would
through so many different sentences
and periods of incrimination
over too many false starts
and false promises under faux finishes
in flashy forward thinking front rooms
where optimism ought to have been
the order of the day..

You knew it would fail at the start.
Didn’t you state it a thousand ways?
Claim it at the start of infinite days?
Use it as a torch through go a mourning haze?
Your palpable pessimism
and natural negativity
would always and all-encompassingly encourage
everything and everyone to imagine the worst
for only that could set you free
from your anxiety.

But it didn’t.
It let your worries rule you
and others followed suit
and we realized what you knew all along
that failure was in the cards
the stars
and far and away
the only path ahead
would be led to
hither and yon
by a bad guide
to a bad place.
It was all bad.
You predicted it
and it was made so.

You knew it wasn’t going to work.
You said it often enough,
sighed and cried
and your will
was enough to make it work.

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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