I am The jester If the old Dusty unfunny Folia. I retell Resing The lore Of the gone. I regurgitate The sad Unironic Unuplifting Truths In the manner Most light-hearted. I spew The nonsense Of the burden Of the past. The present Is my nemesis. I cry my eyes out To make them Crystal clear For mornings To recite Somebody else's Dream. I cave Under the pressures Of the caged birds To lift The feathers Of the hair Of the children of the future. My reader You remember I am just an old soul Who dances To make you Smile At the depths Of our Despair.