The Melancholy Tears of a Jester
How can I talk to you, how would I start? Speak of the things that we unknowingly Share?
Or of all the times you’ve caught me mid-Stare?
Time would pass and you would never even Know
How the melancholy tears of a jester flow.
Friends are common, but love is far too Rare,
To cast aside, let go, or even spare.
You talk much to others. No words for me,
At least not ones from which a clown can See
That he could be, a gentle lover to thee.
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This is how I feel about my fear to even talk to someone about my feelings, whom I share 99% of my personality with because I’m terrified of being seen as just a clown. I’m also afraid of the rejection not for my ego but the loss of hope and possibilities.