Linda K. Vasconcelos
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The jester plays his game for all
To make the people smile.
Hiding behind the mask of mirth.
Forgetting for a while.
But when the show is over
And he returns to his room again,
The walls cry out their laughter,
To his loneliness and pain.
For when a man plays the fool,
He laughs that none may see,
The invisible scars upon the soul,
That will not set him free.
Binding him to a solitude,
That fills his heart with fears.
Blotting out all forms of joy,
And leaving him nothing, but tears.