Sometimes, you have to drop a few plates
Watch them smash on the ground
And shout, ‘this is my circus, I’m tired of being a clown…
I am the ringmaster now – and I decide who stays,
I decide who sits to watch, I decide who pays.
This tightrope – it’s far too high and far too bloody thin
These animals are tired of crowds, of being trapped within.
I’m cutting it down and setting them loose, I’m tired of living this folly
This smile is painted on my face, the mask of eternal jolly.
I’m closing the tent, I’m done with the show it’s time to shut this down.
If you’ve come to see a spectacle, then please do turn around.
There’s nothing to see here, nothing to watch. I’m breaking free today.
Time for me to have all the fun, time for me to play.
Sometimes you have to drop a few plates, let them smash on the ground.
The crash of your containment can be a wonderful sound.
Poem By Donna Ashworth