Up In Smoke

Like a magician you perform, To your audience of one
Making people disappear, All in the name of fun

Acrid smoke and mirrors, Play a dangerous game
And for a clown as me, I live with only shame

Dimming of the lights, Curtains slowly spread
Is this all the final act? Will I soon by dead?

The music starts its tempo, Softly calls to me
“Come now lonely child, I can make you free.”

There are no expectations, Nothing you need fret.”
But I see through his charade, It leaves me with regret

At last this great performer, Reveals himself you see
Life is but a vapor and behind this mask was only me

©Up In Smoke by SBDMB (MM)

115925

 

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22 Comments

Filed under Depression, poetry

22 responses to “Up In Smoke

  1. Mother Willow

    Lovely.

  2. Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
    HOT STUFF—HURTING!

  3. Great poem, love the darkness, love clowns 🙂

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