Freakshow

CATEGORY

life

See now, the phantom’s charred face!
Bemused by madness, marred disgrace!
Fingers curl’d in wrinkled fists!
Vengeance ‘furled from crinkling lips!
See how the monster falls apart-
Without a purpose, balls or heart-
He sinks in hatred, stinks of woe-
His stringy hairline, worthless toes.
I see no point in why he lives!
Ask Frankenstein even why he gives,
A minute of day to this horrid beast-
Sickly blight of war that feasts-
On plates of stares, hissing and grimaces-
On pools of phlegm, piss and scrimmages
A dark day comes when he will know,
What life is like living on the show,
For freaks as he are made for the part,
Of showing the world the mainfalls of art.
I see his dilemma, I feel his plight:
Why search for day, when born for night?