The Own in Clown

A symphony in red
Straight from the womb
A deranged laughter
Mutated sobbing
Array of pretexts
Warfield
Philosophies
Of writhing flesh
Left to rot
Out of context
Midnight serenades
Madness in full swing
No one will listen
But the clowns
And the quitters
The enraged
Self-exiled
The pariahs
Whimpering
Curses to the moon
And its little vile men
Never daring to come near.