The circus came back to town last night,
Red and gold and little bit torn,
Like my heart on my sleeve, a bit weather-worn
I woke up in sequins and static again,
Mascara moons under my eyes, implying my sins.
Everyone claps when I make it look fun,
But no one sticks around when the lights come undone.
I’ve been the sad ******* the tightrope too long
Singing ballads to ghosts, always someone else’s song.
Balancing grief in a pink chiffon slip
Sipping my meds from a flask on my hip.
The elephants cry when they think we don’t see,
Caged in nostalgia just like me.
The trapeze swings, but I stay still
Frozen in mid air with no more will.
And God isn’t that the trick of the act?
To look like you’re flying with chains on your back?
To glitter in gold while you’re silently dying,
Turning breakdowns into something, something worth buying?
Carousel thoughts spin too fast,
A mirrored maze of my shattered past,
The crowd just wants their sweet matinee,
And I’m just the girl out on display.
The spotlight’s warm, but the glow’s all fake,
And I’m tired of bending just so I don’t break.
Call it a show. Call it a phase.
Call it depression in a pink beret.
Whatever it is, it’s mine to bear,
A circus of sorrow spun through the air.
And darling, I’d leave if I only knew how,
But the tent’s in my mind…
And the show’s starting now.
