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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1509237
A rewrite of my poem.
In the forest I see a Jester without a care in the world, wearing silly face paint, with his crazy hair curled.
Merrily playing his flute among the trees, singing and dancing with the greatest of ease.
But he's obviously not aloof to the problems in the world abroad,
He's not blind to the tears that fall upon the ground on which he gleefully trods.
During the day I see him scrounge around upon the ground looking for food because he's penniless.
At night he weaves leaves from among the trees because he's cold and homeless.
Nonetheless he swings on the tree branches like a crazy fool, and plays with the animals over which he does rule.
Woe to those who mock his cheerful disposition, who look down upon him in a jealous fashion.
I don't know how he remains happy despite his fate,
but I wish I could join him in his happy state.
However I must live in the real world and on my happiness wait.
© Copyright 2008 D.T. Diaz (derekd at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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