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Another Tear Conducting Clown.

I see myself, I'm running,
Running for nothing.
I see myself running at my will,
Running round and round my hill.
My hill of King and Queen,
The likes of which, I've never seen,
The hill on which I can't be King,
But instead a joker with a sing,
Fair joker sing a violent song,
A song of rights not wrong,
But the picture that he sees of him,
Makes him write the words he sings,
The words from clown that's too upset,
His tears run down… so wet, so wet,
His make-up streaks, he makes a frown,
He is the tear conducting clown.
He shows the how of all our fears,
He shows the streaks made by our tears,
He loves our loves, and hates our hates,
He hates his life, His Satan waits,
To take his home, his life to be,
This jokers glad, That clown… it's me.

©1997 Insanity Inc. ©1997, black heart. H.Luck.

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A short disclaimer :
It has been known for people to take offense to my poetry...
And think i'm a twisted black individual... who is arrogant and distasteful...
This is not true (well, for the most part!) and if you do find anything i write offensive,
please, please don't write to me and tell me, or complain.
As a poet, i have poetic licence! :) ... i'll write what i want,
and if you don't like it... Don't read it!!! :)

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MysterG