Running around in the dark dreary circus, I find myself alone, and wonder if this is a circus. The merrry-go-round has stopped in its tracks, And the fun house has closed all of its traps. I see a red tent, just up on the hill, And I enter it slowly, weary as hell, There was no one there, but a few extra rings, And so I just sat there, and scream, scream, scream. A clown runs up, smiling with glee, He ties me up, very happily. Swing me around, like a big oak tree, And I scream and shout very sadly. He hushes me up, and tells me to be quiet, I obey his command, and he yells, “QUIET!” He goes around me, his hand around my neck, Holding me tightly, by my chest. He drops two rings, around my neck, And I yell and scream as he soon snaps it. I have been rung, and yet I still breathe, He tells me “You’re dead and will suffer eternity!”
Reason for writing:
Hey, i wrote this poem because this is what i believe hell is gonna be like for me. They say that hell is your worst fear, and like many, i am afraid of clowns. Please respond if you want to know anything or just want to talk. I check my mail just about every day.
Birth sign: Taurus
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