Sometimes, at night when the fireflies dance
My vision is blurred and I am reminded of the most tragic death of all.
Disease mixing with face paint, bright red hair gathering sweat
The brightly colored creature dies.
And it is things like this that remind us that no one lives forever,
When a clown dies.

Clowns bring happiness for most and fear for some
But whichever way you look at it
Clowns embody laughter if you were to personify such a wondrous thing.
Who else would take a flower
And drench you with it?
Of sweep up light
Into a pale?
But even children begin to question the cycle of life
When a clown dies.

 
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