By D. R. DiFrancesco

The circus arrived many years ago,

Staking claim to hallowed ground that was not their own,

Jugglers, acrobats, circus clowns fragmenting your mind,

Side shows of a freakish nature.

Your thoughts being tossed,

Like so many rainbow colored balls,

Blurred and spinning round and round,

Distorting the line between what’s real and what’s fantasy.

Unsure of who you are,

Whirling dervish’s do cartwheels upsetting your equilibrium,

Stumbling and falling you struggle to regain composure,

Putting on a show for the horde.

You paint on your happy face,

Trying to shut out the worry with jokes, laughter and slight of hand,

Insecurity and despondency boo at you from the  crowd,

While secretly you crave the drugs that keep you sane.

Yet the show must go on,

Since life doesn’t stand still for you,

Under your big top of antidepressants,

You cope as best you can.

Each day brings a new performance,

Crowds of onlookers hoping for a fall,

But you won’t give them the satisfaction,

Instead you maintain your balance on the tightrope that is your existence.