Carny Fall

I am the crying clown.
I’m up when I am down.
My rusted bells & other tells…
Like my cardboard crown.

Whatever my employ…
I’d dreamed of bringing joy.
I broke away & made my play…
As a living toy. 

My big shoes are muddy.
Grateful they aren’t bloody.
Both blood & gore’s on killing floors…
Neither one’s funny.

My costume’s soaking wet.
My greasepaint’s smeared with sweat.
With peanut pay & beds of hay…
Fortune does forget.

My smile’s aged to a frown.
Life spread from town to town.
I started out no skill; just doubt…
Now, a crying clown.

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lbstowe

I see the world through a Painter’s eyes and process it with a Poet's Heart....it's quite a harsh place for the soul. It scratches and wears your true self down, at times, but the Beauty is Addictive. I feel for everyone I encounter. Everyone I encounter is a teacher if I'll let them be. I Empathize with everyone I talk to & I Think about Everything-LEVi

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