To dream the dream of noble kings,
and live the life they lead,
the jester plays the fool for them
to drink their cup of mead.
Late at night as he retires
to hide behind closed door,
wipes the smile from his face,
and rains tears on the floor.
They'll not know his secret wish
to sit before their fire,
have these fools he must attend
kneel down and call him sire.
-Rusty
Never thought that it was silly happy.
ReplyDeleteAlone he longs for being who can never and is sad to be who do not want to be.