Beware the Sweet Smell of Clowns

It's funny 'casue there's a bunch of shit talkin' and I don't even get a wiff.

I wonder what ya'll would be mockin' if I actually gave you something to sniff.

Poppin' my head above the clouds, it's the fresh air that I've missed.

So, stomp my name into the ground; I have a shovel, let me assist.

'Cause what comes around, goes around to your name smelling like shit.

But when boiled down; no stutter, no lisp:

It's all about what you can grasp your fist around, and not letting what you have slip.

So, don't let the clowns bring you down, play at your own risk.

Doesn't matter where you're at, country, work, school, town: fish still eat fish.

Stand up for yourself, make a sound, don't serve yourself upon a dish.

Guide that inspired this poem: 

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