A Good Sense Of Humour Blunts The Sharp Blades Of Reality

When life threw me a curveball, I stumbled—then chuckled mid-fall. Lumped knees, not pride, I wore like bent, because sneering is something I've seen. In chemo rooms and vestibules, I frenzied dry jokes on aseptic walls. Doctors simpered, nurses would beam— a punch-line where the fear had been. When agony thumped hard and sleep grew thin, I let the silly light writhe in. A meme, a whirl , a silly song— made aching days feel less so long. No, humour incurable or patch, But it's the ally, not made to part. It doesn't silence, hurt or truth, but let me smirk with my aching tooth. So here's my laugh, though life gushes beneath, it's how I rise, not how I lament!