Dance to the tune, Clown

I want you to be a part of another of my rants. Sit with me for my morning coffee and be a part of my extra ordinary life for next ten minutes. With us, on the stool is sitting a clown who is pulling out ribbons from his mouth. One tied to another to another to yet another. Each ribbon a different color like some form of emotions present inside him. Happy, sad, crazy, cranky, confused. Each one is a shade of him. As ribbons are pulled all these colors fade from the clown’s skin. His make up drained to black and white and as the last ribbon pulled out he falls to his knees. He cries in his circus tricks depicting no one’s watching, no one ever was. They turned away long ago when the world was still monochrome.
Now he walks, blinded by little color present inside his head. There is an eerie silence, the silence that empties one all around everywhere but not inside of him. It’s like a music box trembling symphonies of thunder and he is dancing with the monsters of his childhood. I am there too, inside the music box. Walking over bleeding corpses collecting there eyes in this little box. Suddenly, it’s so many colors in so little shades of those memories that they want to see.
The Clown pulled my hand and I fell onto my knees. Then I start digging the land trying to dig as much as I could to bury my secrets. Weeds sank their claws into my skin curling around my ankles pulling me inside the earth. I was drowning. Into a black hole.
I successfully hid my secrets and secrets hid me. Nothing defines me.
The clown is still standing in monochrome and colors are appearing at every place I once walked. I am drowned but colors are appearing.
Just,
Just then.
I fell asleep in my sleep. Music box still playing its tunes.

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