Poem: Clowns and Syllables

Thirteen fumbling funny clowns step out of a clown car
Twelve red noses and one blue shine in the twilight
Eleven clowns on the left don’t play guitar
Ten clowns among them hurry to the right

Nine of them with smiles claim to be fine
Eight though show signs of depression
Seven look to the divine
Six have a shrink session

Five with ego’s proud
Four of them stink
Three’s a crowd
Two drink

One.

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