Distorting my color and shape.
This house of fun is haunting
The happiness you think you make.
The striped tent stands alone
On a backdrop of amber red.
Lights, laughter, loneliness are the colors
On the canvas of the things you said
To me on the night of the circus.
A spectacle--Come one, Come all!
I bought my ticket, I bought yours too.
And walked your tightrope and tried not to fall.
The sound of applause (in your mind alone),
The tent remains pitched in your town.
You believe yourself the ringleader,
When all you really are is the clown.
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