The Jester
A dead man's hand casting three emotions into the air.
A symphony of suspended spheres,
frustration, pride, and recklessness.
Three masks, which ones are the liars.
The game is already at an end,
I can study the act of a crowned clown.
You look so sad and pitiful.
As you struggle, you know it is useless.
A dead leaf tossed by raging winds.
You’re so boring.
This is what I’ve been longing for.
I feel like a cleansed soul, so refreshed.
My heart feels so light floating in the breeze.
But still,
This is not nearly as bad as the humiliation I suffered from you.
I’m not unreasonable,
kneel down before me, beg me for forgiveness.
Otherwise, you can be destroyed here.
After all,
who would turn their back on a clown like you.
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