The Jester

This was written when I was twenty-one, when pondering on how I had felt during my grammar and high school days.

The Jester

See that poor little naive girl walking by
She's the butt of all the jokes and doesn't know
She tries not to hear the laughs see the finger pointing
Deep inside she tries not to let it show

The world seems to laugh when she falls on her back
And no one is on her side it seems
They don't see the hurt she feels inside
Because she's a lowly jester, not a queen

That poor little naive girl
To everyone it seems like she's here to entertain
But funny isn't what she means to be
Still, the world laughs at her just the same

She can't handle all of the taunting, the teasing
The foolish clown she doesn't want to be
She wishes that she could just disappear
From all of the laughing faces that she sees

Somebody always plays the role
In a group a jester there must be
I know this to be true because
That jester that you see is me

© 2005 by L. Verella

 

Photo from Luvdalot Graphics 

Thank you Hyde Park Poetry!