Can you comfort a fallen man’s cries
with the smudged ink of tears?
I know this pain, this poisoned kiss,
with branches hung like the gallows.
I yearn to taste the grape
for what it was.
Just another memory swallowed by the dawn,
my pain continues unheard
by those who do not understand.
Clowns falsely smiling, with painted faces,
while the child held within
cries out for release.
The vivid colours of the circus tent
fade to grey deception,
its supposed merriment a cruel masquerade.
Laughter echoes hollow mockery
as I stumble through this waking dream,
trapped within an inescapable play.
I desperately search for the key
to unlock these suffocating chains,
to open the door
that can redeem my haunted soul.
Grains of precious time
slip through trembling fingers,
each one a fleeting moment
cruelly lost to the jest of the hourglass.
I ache to journey to those distant realms
where peace might finally be found,
where my restless spirit can at last
lay its weary burden down.
Yet the way remains veiled
in impenetrable mist, and I wander,
my spirit in this twisted tale without end,
forever seeking the elusive truth
my eyes cannot unveil.
