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Submitted on
December 23, 2012
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She doesn't love me,
I'm just a name.
Trying to cling to her,
As she rises to fame.

She doesn't need me,
Nor does she care.
Because to her,
I'm rarely there.

Behind the scenes,
Pulling things 'round.
No one notices,
The weeping clown.

No one looks,
Nor do they ask.
They just assume,
He has another task.

"Too busy" they say
"To be questioned or stopped"
"Just let him work"
"He doesn't talk"

Never do they
Ever see
That the weeping clown
Is really me.
Really I just started writing and this came to mind...no idea, nor do I care. Because, let's face it, I'm rarely there.
:iconodins-gift:
That's a very good one. Love the rhythm, the seemingly effortless rhymes, the brevity! saying exactly what is necessary and no more, the "timelessness" of the situation - circus, resp. the circus of life....
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:iconforgotten-soul85:
forgotten-soul85 Dec 24, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
I can relate to this one this one is pretty good
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