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a joker's shift
In colors he bloomed, with a big red nose,
He chose the job where laughter grows.
There he stood in rounded boots,
With a grin of mischief and playful hoots.
Dressed like a child, his costume loose,
A floppy hat, a bright jumpsuit.
Then came the rain--it cleared the crowd,
While the magician watched, silent and proud.
And through the downpour, something broke through
A glimpse of the man, not masked, but true.
His smile turned down, a burdened frown,
Grief wrapped tight in his circus gown.
He vanished with no tear, no trace,
Just silence held in a painted face.
He ends his shift, no cheers, no song,
As a joker he smiled, as a joker he belonged
Copyright ©
sal noman
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