Circus paint

Many a time spent chasing behind, smile painted on
There under false pretences not sure
If I’m going to be found out anytime soon,
Driven away for not being who I allude to
Never the sparkly, witty one
Rather the one who watches from a quiet corner
As the circus unfolds…
Who shall I be tonight?
Dancing rock star whirling about the room
Or a wallflower clinging to the bar there,  like a life raft?
Circus paint on,  costume on? Check
Hair,  heels, personality all in order
Still unsure if I’m in the wrong fairytale,
And how soon can I escape it all….
It’s all started to bore now you see
Daily adventures have become monotonous
Looking at faces flushed red, dull eyes
Comprehending nothing other than a drink
Which is blotting up the spilled ink of their daily story
That they have no way to escape from.

Ailsa
©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

Author: ailsacawley

I have written since I can remember, devouring the stories of Roald Dahl under the covers by torchlight. I have always loved fairy tales, myths and magic. A good deal of the things I write has some truth in it. Others, not. I’m pleased you dropped by, please feel free to leave me a comment or if you’re kind enough to share that’s fine. ☺️ View all posts by ailsacawley