Smiles o' that clown, and jokes,
As he whispers into my ears,
Then fill my eyes,
With nothing, but tears.
Felt me, that he is gon dine,
The chills, which run down my spine,
His hysterical face and hat combine,
As his dreadful eyes towards me shine,
And that he craves for my soul, only mine.
Dremt hath I, to uncover his mask,
Abjured hath I, such simple task,
Or in the same dream, to tie him in shackles,
For having a look at him, my heart battles.
He fractures my jaw with his ankles,
And cuts my neck with broken bangles,
With every precise and possible angle.
I wake up and watch him playing at the rooftop,
When my fears reach the top,
Gazing through his eyes, my heart craves stop!
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Comments about this poem (The Coulrophobiac by Awsaaf Ali )
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