Come one, Come all…
To the circus of repose, where the bereft of life crawl.
An eidolon, named night
On that black throne reigned upright
But this wasn’t that man’s story, you see
And so, an eidolon he could never be.

A man who delved through nocturne,
A sliver of a web encasing that pierrot’s mask.
When would death meet him in rendezvous?
A one-way mirror of a man one could never look through…
And not even himself, he could ever see
But just an empty figure, staring right back at me.

The pierrot watched the circus of the ******, their tickets a one way gate…
To a land they would enter, where only endless death was their fate.
And yet, that eidolon stared forwards, pitying men like poe
Whose woes were legion and legends, a red string tied to a crow.

Talents were prosperous and plentiful around him
As broad as the performers, however their thoughts were grimm,
And each of them craved this rendezvous, a rendezvous with mercy
A fate that not even fortuna could ever properly foresee.

Happy faces peered up towards them at dusk,
And even if those performers wore masks, it was the cast’s job to be brusque
And formally distract the audience from their own empty husks.

A stage full of fakers, an audience full of liars
The eidolon thought to himself then, just how cruel was their maker?

He met his death at rendezvous, that broken smile spitting at ‘mercy’s door
And those who watched, could only pretend to abhor
The burning spectacle before them, how beautiful it sparked
An ultimate ending, to the man’s last work of art.