The Joker’s Testimony #023
The Joker leans in, shadows hugging his grin, eyes sharp as a broken bottle.
Unfiled Addendum
Anon: Why do you keep mocking them? Don’t you ever get tired of laughing?
The Joker: Tired? No. The laughter isn’t habit, it’s prophecy. Every time I laugh, I’m pointing at the cracks in the mask they built for themselves.
You beg for justice, yet worship greed. You preach freedom, yet chain yourself to bills, brands, and borrowed dreams. You cry about the CEO’s millions while scrolling through a phone you couldn’t afford, sipping a latte you swore you needed.
And then—then—you turn your eyes on me, as if I’m the monster for telling you it’s all a joke. But you know what’s funny, Anon?
You already knew it was rigged. You just wanted someone else to lie to you and say it wasn’t.
I don’t lie. I laugh. Because when the smoke clears, and the circus burns down, there won’t be heroes or villains. There will only be those who played the game— and those who cried about the rules.
And you, my dear shadow? You’ll still be asking me questions you don’t want the answers to.
The Joker cackles, echo bouncing like a verdict no one ordered but everyone deserved.