Crying Clown – a poem about………

Feeling this insecurity, living a life of impurity.

Why do the monsters speak, taking hold of a mind so weak.

Remembering a happy day, one when I didn’t feel this way.

Those days when I was so blind, false entries in my mind.

Even now, the world keeps turning.

Yet I fall, so slowly burning.

In my head, these thoughts are keeping.

Degenerating to silent weeping.

I cannot find this happy place.

Or wear a smile upon my face.

It would be easy to simply drown.

But here I am, the Crying Clown!

Do I feel the need to die? would it make another cry?

Cannot face another suicide, not a choice that I’ll decide.

Irrelevant of what I say, please don’t ask me to bow or pray.

It’s gone now, so much is black, please don’t worry, I’m coming back!

Even now, the world keeps turning.

Yet I fall, so slowly burning.

In my head, these thoughts are keeping.

Degenerating to silent weeping.

I cannot find this happy place.

Or wear a smile upon my face.

It would be easy to simply drown.

But here I am, the Crying Clown!

 

photo courtesy of Darkslide Photography

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