Like a balloon,
Painted on,
Thin sheath to resist needles,
A clown,
Hollow or seems to be,
Fat and hollow like a looted melon
The tears of the clown,
If granted permission-
Dream to rush over the make-up mounts,
And pull the lip corners,
And fold the smile-
Like an umbrella-
Into a frown
But alas,
Face paint is thicker than water
And what are tears but corrupted waters (Add salt to taste)
Bruises glossed over
Scars powder buried,
The balloon pants with large interspaces
Filled with air and imaginary money
Casted in more horror movies
Than circus gimmicks,
And nods yes, do all
For penny-not-wise
And red in nose is accumulated anger
That finds no outlet
And the balloon is on the verge of bursting,
With evident danger of something,
Sharper than a needle,
Let not the balloon burst....
~Ajay
1/11/17
