Take a look at my face and examine the joy
that my costume expresses and actions employ.
I have trouble disguising my world-weary frown
which is etched in the mask of an obsolete clown.
My career was to laugh and encourage delight
by an abject grotesqueness that also brings fright.
I’m eternally twisted, distorted and morphed
with extravagant pride in what ought to be dwarfed;
I’m enormous and tiny, a knave beyond scale
who makes light of the tragic or sorrowful tale
but who then inexplicably waxes morose
when the story is happy or tender or close.… Continued “Melancholia — Robert Nelson”