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The Dedpoet Jan 2016
Thunderclaps in the ears,
A crown of grey hovers,
Sordid and sorrow,
absurdly familiar with a half smile.

Ironic and inflated with nerves
Of rubber bands, atrociously
Used to the jester's tears
And the slow agony of its entertainment.

And we stand when it hurts,
Pace when we are worried,
Let us walk the daily grind......

Through it all we cry and fizzle,
Drowned in the warmth of the tears,
The pain is familiar, the saddest clown!
The Dedpoet Dec 2015
I don't belong here
In this flesh
Going to this dirt,
I belong to
the fire, the wind,
The sky.....

— The End —