Friday, October 24, 2008
There is a clown on the world's stage.
A clown who doesn't even stand in the middle of the circus but rather by the side of the ring. A clown who works so hard to juggle whatever is thrown at him, practises and performs to make the audience laugh and such. Hoping all the time that he can be in the center of the ring even for just one person if never the world.
But all in all, a clown who is laughed at, laughed with but never significant. A clown who will remain by the side of the ring when the lights dim and the audience shuffling out, left there with teardrops flowing over the artificial smile. Un-noticed and unremembered.
Is this really how he feels? Nah. There is only so much a narrator can describe what is felt. Words are only words. Somebody else's shoes are always his, walking around in his shoes doesn't make you him.
The Origin. 10/24/2008 12:28:00 am