The Circus

To expect the best is to experience the worst, For why I cannot tell. It could be her inexplicable thirst, Or endearing living hell. You’d think, after so long Of pretending and playing the game She’d maybe sing her circus song Better, with her renounced fame. But being a clown who aspires to be More than The Ringmaster’s puppet Earns only bruises above the knee And meals she can barely stomach. Her relationship with him is bittersweet- He helped her when she was lost Threw her scraps of blood red meat And kept her from winter’s frost. Despite these things, the werewolf knew One day how far she’d go, For biting off more than you can chew Is one way to end the show.