These are but vain attempts to express, by one who wears her heart on her sleeve. Words, much like love, can be ever elusive... ever frustrating... like trying to paint a million stories on a single canvass. If you will read, please do not ask. Just feel. Or at least try to. The meaning is, whatever you have felt to be there, or the lack thereof :)

Questions to a clown



How does it feel
to laugh from without
yet find
it echo
in a hollow space
within?
to run as far
as you can
yet know
one day
the answers will
draw you back
again?
to move on
as if
what you refuse
to face
will never come back
haunting?
to be happy
in words
in pictures
in being seen?
to insist to be
alright,
and just
ignore
your self
who's in there
grieving?



ps. enough.please stop running.
7:33 PM 12/3/2013
image from Skeeter Davis' The Face of a clown

August Bernadette 
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