A Pale Imitation

May I cry?
May I say?
May I die?
May I sway?
No, they say, those that rule,
You are but a silly fool,
You are no jester, but a person cruel,
A pale imitation.
I waddle out,
I cry in shame,
I sulk and pout,
And avoid the blame.
But chase me they do, those that rule,
They call out my name,
They yell, they blame,
For I bring them shame,
As a pale imitation.
I flee the city,
With them on my heels,
There is no pity,
No one cares or feels.
They crow, those that rule,
The laugh and point,
The group disjoints,
They say: "You have no point!"
You are but a pale imitation.

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