The Clown with the Dreary Fate



These feelings won’t go away,

Like a sad clown who wears a happy mask,

Tired of pretending to love the things I do,

The melancholy voice,

The journey itself is monotonous n unfulfilling,

Making people laugh in the circus of despair,

The pretentious joy is like a curse.


  1. This reminds me of Baudelaire’s Venal Muse:

    The Venal Muse

    Muse of my heart, lover of grand chateaux,
    When January unleashes storm and sleet,
    Through the black and dreary evenings when it snows,
    Will you have coals to warm your violet feet?

    With gleaming starlight that has pierced the blinds
    Will you reanimate your shoulders’ cold
    Marble? Your palate dry, your purse unlined,
    From vaults of azure will you harvest gold?

    To earn your evening bread you’ll have to swing
    The censer like a choirboy, and sing
    Te Deums of which you don’t believe a word,

    Or, starving clown, show off your charms, your smile
    Wet with tears that none see, to beguile
    And cheer the sick spleen of the vulgar herd.

    – Charles Baudelaire, trans. by C.F. MacIntyre

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