At seventeen, you called yourself "Life's Jester," Saying that you were "playing the part of the fool for the gods." As though some archaic deities would deign the mundanity of your life worthy of their interest. At fifteen, I was the fool. Your delusions of grandeur convinced me, in my naïve adoration, that you spoke deep, irrevocable truths; that you alone were a font of wisdom I could never aspire to compare to. I spent thirteen years under your spell, my own wisdom suppressed, denigrating myself to you, never daring to eclipse you, but if I ever did slip, you were quick to subjugate me again beneath your ego. I never played the part of the fool for any gods. I was only my own life’s jester.
Another poem for class, this one written as a response to one my ex wrote a long time ago.