Jester

Let the fire scorch my skin
Let my dignity shrivel within
With every sound, an arrow through
My heart, giving it a gray hue

I’d rather not though I am losing grip
Who knew life would be such a mocking trip
With me under the light of ridicule
Eternally everything’s foot stool!

Why must I be the beggars’ jester?
Further my scars open and fester
But still everyone finds me humorous!
They’re all deaf to my fit so tempestuous!

You over there in the corner!
You did this! You’re my soul’s owner
I’d spit where you stand if you knew
I hate the gods for making me you!