THE SAD CLOWN

by Ted Rogers

I am the Sad Clown,

Dressed so well,

But always wearing a frown.

An old man in a young boys head,

A young boy in an old mans bed.

Look at my glittery top,

Isn’t it a great way to distract from the fact that underneath all this I’m sat in my own piss.

All I truly wish for is ignorant bliss.

I am the whore.

I sell my skin,

Sultry eyes are broken within.

I dream of a fairytale romance while you’re fucking me on a bin out back.

Cock is crack,

I inhale your sack.

I am the Queen.

For years they put us down so we crown ourselves.

Exalted for all to see,

Don’t you ever doubt how fabulous I can be!

Wouldn’t it be nice if we didn’t have to try?

But then we’d be bored and would rather just die.

So we fight for our right to party!

We prance through the Dalston streets like Kingsland is Queensland.

Dodging hooks,

Throwing looks,

Our catwalk awaits.

Seeking glory at The Glory,

Healing the gory wounds of our pasts we look for a new story.

I am the sad clown,

dressed so well,

Always wearing the crown!