Clowns

Hurt
I shut down
Inside the silence

Write it out
Fight it out

Empath
This solitary epitaph
Words come lucid
Swept on tides
Murky

I am smothered
By the pain of
Sickened souls
If I could touch them
Make them whole

Let them see
How they shine
So brightly
How pure
Their lives can be

It would redeem
The sins
They can’t rinse
No matter how many
Excuses they invent

Sequestered
Assessing
The sociopathy
The apathy

I cry beneath the
Weeping willow tree
On my knees
Arms wrapped
Face pressed
Against her bark as
She rinses my heart

Meanwhile humans
Play on merry go rounds
Their faces adorned
Like clowns

©venniekocsis.com

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