Author's Note: I'm not really sure if poems can have sequels, but if they can, then this one is a sequel to my previous one, "Picture-Perfect Paradigm." It's also on my Fictionpress page, so feel free to check it out as well if you are so inclined.
What if I was wrong all along
and never truly needed to be so strong?
What if I got rid of my comedy mask
with its empty eyes and carved slit of a mouth,
and just wore a genuine smile instead?
What if I leapt through the air,
not knowing where I'd land?
Did Atlas ever shift one hemisphere
onto another pair of shoulders?
What if I didn't push away
every hand that reached for mine,
and it really isn't me against the world
dying over every hill just so I don't cave?
What if I opened the gates to my castle
and let down the drawbridge
over the cold, chilled chasm
I've constructed so carefully
so someone could conceivably cross?
Could they be worth the trouble it would take
to turn the windlass and lower the ropes?
Could a mere mortal be allowed
to enter the Fortress of Solitude?
Could we actually be seen enjoying ourselves
at a nice café in Italy?
What if I wasn't the savior of the human race
and planet Earth would keep on spinning
if I just sat down and enjoyed it?
What if it's about time somebody saved my life?
Would it really be that bad?