Funny funny joke no it’s not

She called herself witty and yet she never said one thing of wit.

Which made her entire being seem almost counterfeit.

But what never made sense was that ironically the less wit she possessed made her seem all the more comical.

And I know that seems illogical.

Her words always felt like they were funny but the truth was that no one ever was laughing at her speech.

Though that truth they would never breech.

Rather they were laughing at her.

And the words that passed out of her mouth like a blur.

The dim-witted humor was almost charming.

Half her jokes were rather alarming.

It wasn't what she said more like how she said it.

Rather it was when she said it.

Like the time she tumbled down a flight a steps when a joke fell flat, pun most definitely intended.

It wasn't what she said, it was mostly how she looked.

Her earrings always unhooked.

Crooked glasses.

Speech as slow as molasses.

Broken smile.

Clothes always old never in style.

Tall red socks and polka dot shoes.

A pocket full of the blues.

Everyone always seemed to laugh with her.

Even though she was clearly an amateur.

And so one day it all got in her head.

As aforesaid.

Next thing she knew she was standing on stage with a microphone in her hand.

Somehow in high-demand.

I always believe it was just all a sort of manifestation.

Which I say in vexation.

She spoke her humor into existence.

Only taking the path of least resistance.

Her corny jokes she spoke never really realizing that she was the bud of every joke.