The Clowns Inside Us

The Clowns inside us.

It is unfathomable,

In the darkest depths of the mind that

Clowns with painted mouths

Juggle your precious moments carelessly,

For the entertainment

Of others.

Each colourful ball

Symbolizes a sacred thought,

A reminiscence of a time you once endured

Or enjoyed.

You wait to watch him drop a ball,

For none of us can ever fully perfect a craft.

Which will fall?

The fat, red one slips from his grasp;

The ex-lover,

Violent and utterly hostile.

The finger-marks across your cheek

That once lay smugly,

Discreetly hidden with the brush of your

Compact powder and foundation,

Has now grown to the size of fat sausages.

Your swollen face is pressed against

The cool glass of the public window;

All can see,

And boy,

Do they laugh!

The moment those words fell out of your mouth,

Struggled to carry across the court room,

But so easily accessed on your Facebook page.

That beating.

Not the thudding beat of your heart,

But the beat of solid muscle behind thick fist.

The clown’s party trick,

Is upon your peers,

Foes, family and friends of all ages;

Reliving memories is tragic,

But not nearly as tragic as

The grin glued to the joker’s face.