Clowns

By ELANBEMO TUNGOE

Lost in the race of appeasement,

Buried are the faces of one’s disappointment.

Whereas, the portrayal is of one’s sunshine

But contains the hidden moonshine.

Hit the star, you become the limelight

And a mishap, you are the villain in the highlight.

They follow where the strong tide leads

And not where your poor soul pleads.

All geared up to play the finger game

Yet you exclude yourself to be in the blame.

Shift camp in change of hierarchy,

As you want to slaughter for a charqui.

Clothed neatly but with rotten thoughts,

One is also young with the botox.

If I ponder about the quest for our crowns,

We are double faced humans called clowns.

By ELANBEMO TUNGOE