Poem By Michael Carlson
By some other being not yourself.
As if the world is some theater,
a simple clown, held aloft by threads.
Destined to dance to the nod of others,
A red flushed smile inscribed upon its face,
and limbs dancing, in a moment of blissful, emptiness.
Yet when you gaze into those eyes, these eyes,
You gaze upon an abyss,
With the pain