At times, I am a stilt – walker in the circus.
Sometimes a trapeze artist
suddenly breaking into vaudeville as a bit player.
Ah, life is tough making me enact strange roles.
Every fibre of my being goes
into trying to score a hit.
Often, though briefly,
trying to provide comic relief
then, all of a sudden coming to grief
as the stilts snap in two
and I forget the cue,
stutter and fumble, and flee the stage.
But boos and hisses follow me too
Ah, lacerating indignity – bitter brew!
Life glares at me with the charisma of an undertaker
Am I not allowed to lodge a complaint with my maker?
Am I an outsider, looking in?
Swinging between euphoria and despair, faking grins?
“Oh come on, relax, sit back and applaud the winner.
Don’t cringe at your asininity, imagine a rich dinner.
After all, that really, was a difficult role.
Hang on there, scroll up,
just a moment back, were you not on a roll?