The man wearing nylons is drawing his pictures again.
He claims they are of me, but all I see is his heart pounding.
He’s on his knees and begging reprieve, but all he wants is more of what he claims weighs him down.
Behind the elephant, next to the clown, in a pink tutu he threatens to burn the big top down.
From flames, to ashes, to thigh highs, don’t believe him when he cries.
If you blink and he’s still there, maybe there’s a bit more than artificial care.
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