A crying clown on the boardwalk smiled
to melt away his fears.
The humming of the passing world
could not prevent his tears.
Once an introverted extrovert
that liked to talk out loud.
Is sitting with a sullen head
now hiding from the crowd.
There were messages,
that once seemed, like fine ropes made of sand,
but the messages were something,
he was to late to understand.
Sometimes it might be easier
to fall before you rise,
but in the end, it always hits you
right before you die.
As he sat there with expressions
he'd perfected through the years,
there were voices, that relayed to him
the passing of the years.
All the desperation
that would always leave him cold,
was the type of desperation, that watched him now grow old.
And as the situation, now revealed itself in turns,
he wondered in his crippled mind,
is there anything I've learned.
And despite the sinking feeling,
that engulfed his shipwrecked mind,
a silent voice would whisper that...
"there's something left behind".
Its that silent voice that whispers,
makes him reflect and rewind.