There was a clown I knew,
Who had forgotten how to laugh,
Rendered grim by alcoholic smog,
His painted smile had become begrimed,
Layered in mahogany muck,
A metallic sheen of depression,

His outfit was tattered,
Ripped asunder by times razor,
No more a flamboyant ensemble,
His clown shoes were worn through,
Revealing yellowed toenails,
Comedic value turned to dirt,

No joy was to be seen in in his visage,
The years have oxidised his smile,
Sections of his form blowing away like iron dust,
I longed to tell him,
His laugh was not to be found in his glass,
He scornfully chuckled and downed his poison,

He’d rusted away.

Comments
  1. Cassa Bassa says:

    Did life or his vices rust him away?!? Great description on a fallen clown. Enjoy reading it. Thank you!

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