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The Clown
The clown
a living metaphor
of what you see
and who i am
Still learning
to make a funny face
to walk differently
to perform
before an audience
A juggling fool
with worn out socks
in waiting for an applaude
to satisfy a world
of melanchony
delirium and expactations
Wearing the big shoes
bigger than my being
keeping balance
of all the imbalance
to nurture hungry mouths
which survive on a half planet
or what's left
To feed human shadows
which await the big red nose
and stretched out lips
which need a mask
that veils turmoil and pain
The clown
with a spirit to live
and a heart to die
is back in full circus
splashing many colours
on dark shades of grey
The clown
a living metaphor
a tear away
from myself
the heterozygote twin
in the mirror
of my mortal smile
is back in town
and coming out to play.
Charma
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