Clowns Do Have Faces of Their Own

I am the cancer

That blends all its cells

Blurring them beyond recognition

...and possibly maybe I am the Santa

without a sturdy sleigh

whose story is based on a lie

a beautiful lie

Like a child

Waiting to be happy

And facing disappointment

Or coming across...

Learning that clowns

Do have faces of their own

Nothing to hide

Other than what is hideous

My birth is

Next to my death

Sleeping together

Bathing in the moon

and the lies

As long as my road is dim

My lullaby will sustain

'Cause the best has waived its rules

A broader perspective

A Brighter narrative

That is fab

I am that

Like a child

Waiting for the first hole in the soul

And dismembering sweet memories

Or killing time...

Learning that clowns

Do have faces of their own

Just like the old times

Just like the old times