Depression- an expression known well in my line of work

After each show we throw our joy to each other

We scoop the elephant poop and squish our crimson noses

Not even farmer’s hoses water as much as we cry

For we weep a weep only a clown knows of

We live a life of splattered strife and linear confusion

Our rainbow afros and striped bows suggest something of laughter

However, our audience’s rapture is captured by our humiliating underappreciation

We wish for death- our greatest temptation- absence of sensation

Maybe! Popped balloons of arsine are our gate to escape, aggravation