The Worried Clown

See the worried clown,
Watch how the hoods of his eyes
Pull his forehead to frowns,

Nerves sharp like pencils
Ready to snap,
A boredom in joy
As the autumn trees crack.

See the worried clown,
Look at his white crooked face
As black tracks trickle down,

A crumpled old man,
His rainbows are lies
He’s the peak of spent sadness,
The sound of your cries.

Poetry.net

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