Pierrot
I knew no other life
than that of the fool.
I spent my days pining,
letting my unrequited love run rampant.
They told my story for me,
and all I could do was perform their script.
The paint on my face twisted
into a lovesick mess.
The very depiction of art and sensitivity
had been wrapped in a costume
of black and white.
Editor: Erynn Crittenden
