Who is the Fool?

Was I a fool?

To sight an air of sameness
between juicy peaches and rosy butts.

Was I a fool?

To reckon I could, if high enough,
trek on bridges of northern lights

Really, was I a fool?

To visit over’n over the other side of
dearest, but now forbidden Lalaland.

“Grow up, lunatic!” So I’ve been told.
“Life is tough, darken your soul.”
Hence us obedient sheep, we followed behind,
led by the infamous Pied Piper’s flute.

I never questioned myself: that would open my eyes,
though once, I dared— someone, bless my heathen self —
to tint words with sweet, popping colours. In vain, alas!
For already, to old friends, my whole palette is gray
and amongst their taste buds, solely the salty remains.
Despite their (mighty) efforts, I hid Pandora’s box,
its key, a bit far, but still within fair reach.
All while stalling for time, fearing the chime
that’ll mark the end of this cat and mouse game.

So now that I’ve told you, you tell me!
Before I choose which side to take…
Are the fools

the ones who dare to leave their hearts wide open
and scream out their lungs in the air of silence;

or the ones who like it easy, no thinking needed:
just lick their way up —they’ll love boots eventually;

or those deemed geniuses, at the zenith of nations,
who possess wealth! power! all! but emotions…?

Yes, indeed. It’s quite obvious, I am [fill in the blank].

Liliane Ma
Opinions Editor

Originally Published in Bandersnatch Vol. 47 Issue 6 on November 22, 2017