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The Enigma of Hope

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A lonely clown, he stands quite still
His lonely smile would make you chill
His painted face smiles on for days
Yet no one comes to see his plays.
An audience of no one's there
Yet still he waits beside dead air.
The empty vaudeville theatre rings
With silent longing sadness brings.
Time goes by, dust coats his tears
With streaming eyes, he counts the years
But wait he does, he waits on still
Hope is much too hard to kill.



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Artistic_whirlwind said...
Nov. 4, 2010 at 12:56 am:
THis is not your normal everday poem an that's exactly why I love it!
 
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Douglas C. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Nov. 1, 2009 at 3:17 pm:
Dude! i love this poem. I love depressing things. Thanks! you totally made my day with this poem! :)
 
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