(it is supposed to be in rhetorical insights, but nobody goes in there so im puttin it out here too... this is my first poetry piece)
The sad clown....
"Cut me, Do i not bleed?"
"friends die, do i not cry?"
"Stab me, do i not die?"
the clown told me as he stared int my eyes,
i stepd back and got the feeling of desception,
"my best friend died and this rose is for him"
went away with the breeze and the leaves,
as i heard that i began to studder,
dont mind when others die,
they live deep inside,
our hearts 4ever,
let em depart,
we may need em,
but they are long gone,
if you keep em in your heart,
their spirit lives on and on and on,
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