Lying down in my bed at night,
I stare at the stars; a tear in my eye.
Wondering why time is so cruel,
Why it teases and pushes and treats me like a fool.
Begging for the morning not to come,
Feeling sad and forever more numb.
The feeling comes like a beam of pure hate,
Yet the time for mercy is ever so late.
I put on my hat, my bells my whistles,
Ready to bare the life of thorn and thistles.
Mind what you say and watch what you do,
Shame them once and never will they forgive you.
You will end up like me a slave to them,
Repeatedly falling over and over again.
A jester in a crowd of lords and sons,
Entertainment for the feast of the guests to come.
I dance for a prince who tells me lies.
Promises me that this is the last time,
That soon my freedom will be mine.
As jokes are made and he points and laughs,
I know so well his intentions are all but that.
He lets his guests throw rocks and stones.
At the jester who’s crime is unknown.
I do nothing at all and bite my tongue,
I jump and leap, while the night goes on.
When the lord and ladies have their fill,
Off to bed they all do will.
I give it my all till the last one leaves.
I sigh and then start my chores and clean.
This jester is turned the maid once more.
And when I am done my body is sore.
I limp to my chamber at twilight’s peak,
Cuts and bruises have made me weak.
I take off my tights, my bells, and whistles.
I crawl into bed and snuggle in little by little.
The sky’s are clear and the night is still.
I watch the stars from beneath the window sill.
My bed is cold and my body in pain.
I take a deep breath as the nights are the same.
I lie in my lonely bed for another night,
And wait for tomorrow’s day of my frail life.