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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2191234
by Gita
Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2191234
Story of a dwarf
Reaching the Top

An oddity was I born
And an oddity I shall die
For I'm a man just four foot high

My youth was often full of tears
There were whispers there were stares
Fingers pointing
Wicked taunting

Bitterness I felt like bile
To my lot could not 'concile
Was my life worthwhile
When never could I raise a smile

Loneliness was my bete noire
Was my unlucky star
Isolated and all alone
Because I'm just half-grown


One day I meet some circus folk
They don't see me as a joke
Such friendly warmth am I shown
They even offer me a home.

They teach me their trade
Show me how to masquerade
In pantaloons and braces
I'm put through my paces

Soon my short limbs and big noddle
My natural bow-legged waddle
Cause me no more anguish
Those are the things I brandish

I step upon a table
Pretend to be unstable
I stumble and I tumble
And in mock pain hold my bumble

I whip off someone's hat
He comes straight at me
I slip between his knees
And rip off his goatee

As I take a bow with poise
My bumble makes whiffy a noise
Then my toupee plummets down
I feign shame and hide my crown

I'm told that I am gifted
Now my spirits are uplifted
I rehearse throughout the day
My friends are swept away

When the Big Top comes around
They appoint me leading clown
I'm now a
Clown of great Renown
I might be small but
I stand tall!

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2191234