You lock yourself in your shadows,
an emotional barricade
around your heart.
You wear a joker’s mask;
kneeling before the queen,
you toss your jokes carelessly
like pennies from a noble’s hand,
and their laughter doesn’t hurt.
You pretend their laughter doesn’t hurt,
but, like a sunflower to the sun,
you turn towards praise
with a bright smile,
and shrivel inside
when they ignore you.
you are weak.