Circus of Freaks

I stand amidst a circus of freaks

With my clowns, narrator and jailer;

The company princess kisses my cheek

As I am led off for slaughter.

I am old world born into no world at all,

Damned to walk a fine thread;

High above those that pay for my pride

Yet virtue buys me no bread.

Cursed in life as I am in love

My cage offers no silence;

Against the eyes that stare at my soul

To poke me there in violence.

Comfort I grab in a memory,

Of a sepia-stained life past;

A faded dress and smiling eyes

Through a looking glass.

A trumpet heralds me to parley

There to play the joker;

Before the golden rings of fire

Then it shall be over.

There is another way to dust

Than this path on which I tread;

No old-time songs of memory

Will comfort me in my bed.

I am to hang it’s the price I pay

For all the little things;

That I saw with a different eye

Judged to be my sins.

No more wet tears shall I see

Upon her face of white;

Nothing I shall feel again

Or walk among the light.

The princess cries for mercy,

She tries to name a price;

As the rope around my throat

Takes my soul away from life. 

Now I have only hell to fear.

April 2001

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