The Broken Circus

One day I will be able

to melt all of the stolen stares

into coins and be able

to buy tickets to the show

in which I take center stage.

---

When I’m not around,

I know you grimace and snicker

at my feelings that you insist

stay secured inside and unrequited.

---

I continue to be a sad clown

in this broken circus I call my heart.

---

The sounds of my shattered soul

becoming the main attraction

as you eat my tears like popcorn

are as deafening as the

laughs of the one audience member—you.

---

My tent as worn out and rusted

as if it has been standing there

through blizzards and hurricanes

manages to keep you in a glee

as ill intent as I need it to be.

---

Do you want to ride the ferris wheel

so that you could get the bird’s eye view

of all of the moments you avoid to have?

---

Do you want the fortune teller

to tell you all the ways

you could stomp on my dreams?

---

Do you want to throw your

ticket out and never return

to the circus you can’t fix?

---

A torn and worn out circus

you don’t want to admit you break.

1

2