[NightHawk]: 105.NightHawk's Poetry Index.The Jester's Regrets

The Jester's Regrets

This suit, my life, this scepter my soul:
I am a fool.
Naught can bring back the me I once knew,
For I cannot return to my home--
I never knew one of those.
This chamber, the throne room, my cell,
It keeps me here as a show or display--merely for the pleasure of guests.
These bells jingle harmoniously as I dance, cavorting the night away--
I enjoy none of it.
Into the air, night after night, three colored balls do I send.
"More, more," they shout. Then I must do four, five, six--
How many can I do?
Infinite, yet none at all.
And of course, if I fail, stumble, or fall, I am lashed by that despicable lacerating whip,
Like some animal who will not go on, yet I do my best.
Why do they hate me so, yet keep me here until my demise?
Why not simply throw me in a prison cell? Surely that would grant me more freedom!
Seven, eight, nine balls do I throw, dancing around this room in my silly costume. Ten--
And they fall, and the music stops.