The
Writer's Voice
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A
Clown's Life
by
Rusty
Broadspear
The clown was happy,
But happiness has gone,
His games have all ended,
There'll be no more fun.
Like flaking paint,
A child's vision
Of a dying saint.
He's now over sixty,
And life has withered,
He's been so sad...
But no-one bothered.
He's made faces smile,
He's made himself cry,
He's filled children with happiness,
And with this thought he'll die.
His genuine smile,
Turned into a frown,
His face full of joy
Where tears now run down,
Childish pranks,
With water and pail,
Then a terrible ending,
To this sad, sad tale.
However... it is so,
And he died all alone,
Away from all laughter,
Where his life was his own.
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