A Sonnet for Art the Clown

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I ran into Art the Clown

At a pizza shop open late

He sawed my friend’s body in half

A different woman’s face, he ate

His oil black teeth give me nightmares

His sketchy bag full of god knows what

The way he sits silently and stares

You know he’s about to fuck shit up

I used to feel bad for clowns

For causing fear instead of joy

But I get why Art causes frowns

That mother fucker is here to destroy

And if you see Art lurking on your street

Rest assured its your maker you will meet

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