The Jester


The summer breeze always found a way to wash away all the things that made the world filled with so much association
While some found summer as a friend whose return is marked with celebration, I saw it as an abysmal start to a world of no relation
At times he performed wild and jester like actions, he sought laughs and he was much rewarded, however if he was to know how he was scrutinized, he never understood that the laughs were not on his side
He saw the fun they had poking at his ways to make a fool out of himself, unknown to them the similarities they shared, rather they sought it best to look at the differences and stood there to compare, the jester he was, and the jester he would stay, until his depression took the jester away
How can it happen, so quick and fast, that superficial laughs turned to deep pains that inflamed his brain, creating a smog that threw him into a place of no direction, and hid away his vision causing him to feel as if there was no escape , to the point where he looked in the mirror and didn’t see a familiar face
How can it be, that a once cheery boy filled with glee, becomes mean and cold to the point where he sees the people around him as nothing more than sacks of meat
How can’t he see, that his life was turning upside down, but on one hand he saw nothing wrong with his position, because life is perspective and his was no different than the man who saw him as a jester,
but a jester makes laughs, and a jester he was, however inside he was empty, no half empty, no half full, but rather a jar of dust that was once full of feelings and was there for the jester,
no matter the laughs, no matter the shame, no matter the pain, but they too left, when the jester fell into the wrong hands, who used him not for laughs but rather money, now he was the banker, unknown to him it is true, that the banker gave all his money, for friends who wanted nothing but for him to be used
This was the scenario and so summer came, to wash away all the pain, and replace it with nothing, much like he was, because nothing was what he did in his time, nothing was his only place of forgiveness, because summer was not such a wonderful place,
even if he was just a jester no more, he was still in contact with friends that they so called themselves, but summer came, and no more relation, only to look out the window, in the pouring rain, to see himself, but with no familiar face, and no familiar place, but the nothing that engrosses him, he is no more a jester, no more a banker, he is now what he was before conception, empty, cold, and longing for birth,
sadly this day may never come, now, he remains fake, and he sees the truth as it is laid, that the jester brings laughs, and he cannot contain, his longing to feel in relation, to people who didn’t even want to know him, by his real name.

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