I’m a rotten clown,
All maggots and red noses,
I’m no good at making them laugh,
At least not in sincerity,

I’m a pitiable jester,
All rags and body odour,
Dressed up and ready to dance,
But the stands remain empty,

They tell me I need fibre in my diet,
It’s good for the gut they say,
But why care about their wellbeing,
When I’m led to hate my own guts?

Self hate is an artform,
And I’m something of a critic.

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