Plight of the Fool

The fool's become adept at fooling himself,
convinced that what he wants
is enough to satisfy what he needs---
he only ever did laugh at his own folly.

He wears that hapless, haughty grin,
smirking his comedy to the stoic world.
Underneath those facial muscles collapse in agony,
there was no humor in the fool’s plight.

Every night he’d perform his show,
rousing “oohs” and “ahhs” from the crowd.
Martyring his own ill fate before them;
burning the thread of his lifeline.

Of course he was foolish enough to fool himself,
he was a fool!
He bore his atlas burdens with a swarthy grin,
chuckling in concealment of his searing melancholy.

Night’s muse ends the farce of his life,
showtime’s descending twilight.
Left to peel the shame from his face,
those tears never spoke their true name.