I’m said to be crazy, insane they say,
as broken and imperfect fingers point.
Far from grace, while I’m far from sane.
Lost in my expectations,
I got rich from unfulfilled expectations.
A million naira, I was paid.
In cash, your deeds brought it over to my front door.
You’ll say it was little, but in my heart was a massive raid.
Chaos, my hope came crashing down.
Like the Empire state building, I could definitely relate.
We’re all in this circus, but I’m the only clown.
Watched by this terrible audience, for every laughter they’ll pay.
Who wants a bad clown?
Only those in the Wrong Town.
I promise to be good and crack you up to your last breath,
Let excitement roar and run after you like a circus Lion,
Stifle you with amusement, your joy shall be my windpipe.
Charm your mind to this insane sight.
Before you realise, this merriment would have glued you to your chair,
And this moment would be mine to cheer.
I have you exactly where I want.
In my jokes, you’re the laughter now.
But no need to laugh for long,
I’m no comedian, so I’ve got only a few jokes to tell,
before this unforeseen massacre begins.
Trapped in my jokes, every chuckle, giggle, laugh, is a type of distress.
A shot to your brain, you, burning in flames,
Suicidal laughter, for every unfulfilled expectations,
And for every joke you told just to nake me the clown.
For all the promises, I’ve fulfilled.
For every laughter they’ll pay.
By Omale Rex
From: A SAD JOKE TO LAUGH ABOUT
THE SAD GALLERY 