Jester of Broken Hearts
JESTER OF BROKEN HEARTS
Translucent images of a self-perceived worth,
Morals corrupt with ebon thoughts,
A dance mockery to my own humanity,
What makes me the torrent vestige imposed upon today’s populace,
A self imposed victim of mans atrocities,
A killer of self,
Molester of my own innocence,
Rapist of my own soul,
I throw myself into a court as jester,
When all else proclaim themselves kings,
I am the creator of my own sorrow,
The smithy who pounds out my own suffering upon the anvil of life,
Burnt and bitter with the thoughts of what could have been,
And that which was not,
For “I am” a parody to the word called love,
Not even crowned as the king of fools,
For I am the jester of broken hearts.
By Mr. E. Jones
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