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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Dark · #2081346
One to many times chasing the rabbit down the hole only to have it eat her very soul...
THE SAD CLOWN

The unfortunate few can attest as we tried our best to save her but, apparently it wasn’t good enough to stop the sleeping giants arise. Which was shaped in the form of addiction and washed over her former self like the coming tide. Loved and adored; she use to sour miles above us all like a phoenix but, she flew too close to the sun as helter skelter begun and followed hitching a ride behind. To that fact, she fell off the map, crashing down with an impact-of a total lack for the life which she lived up to this point; so well. So close to utopia only to sink into her own personal hell. Branching out a feeble hand for help a victim of disease; trapped in her own version of quicksand.

Beneath the surface the darkness of addiction casts a shadow upon her otherwise glowing eyes. She struggles with the fact that she knows its wrong more so the loneliness from when it’s gone. So it returns to her more and more, entering and poisoning her veins, in vein she likes the escape. We to, just thought she’d eventually do so but, they fooled her and all of us for open eyes came too late and when they did they were in the form of her lifeless body on the floor. In a pool of her own blood drowning half her face with eyes dilated. In a state of frozen time forever sedated. The overdose had caused the hemorrhage in her head. Dead, her face pale white, eyes bleed from the sides, nose shiny red from the blood that couldn't escape by nostrils caked in place, her lips smeared red from the river of blood. A victim of one to many times chasing the rabbit down the hole only to have it eat her very soul.

Wake-we all talk about how great and how…well we powder it up like she escaped. As yes, we all really know but, still try to tie her life up pretty like a shiny bow; for show. Some humor mixed in our bag of tricks so you pay no attention to the center stage; a silent ditch. We speak loud and passionately but, it’s all distracting noise like a honking red nose. All this, to a circus of friends that didn’t know, care, maybe simply didn't have the time or get there for her in just that. We all pay respects under a big top as they lower her down. I saw her before they closed the casket her lifeless face painted up and for the first time in many years she was smiling but, those that knew her know that it wasn’t real it was just the finale act of the show-The sad clown.

By Screamin' Elephantz



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