The poor clown.

  Is that what they think of me

  A blind-blathering fool

  Who can no longer take the smallest of walks alone

  Who are they to say what and who I need

  They call for jokes but make me leave if I dare make mention of my own illness

  Regardless of the context

  And worse yet, they have forced a servant to be my own eyes

  I hold no resentment for the poor boy

  He was as forced into this agreement as I was

  He opens the door.

  I have not seen the inside of this room for a great many decades

  Yet I still remember every detail

  From the smallest cracks along the wainscoted walls

  To the beautiful ocean-blue ceiling

  He sits me down.

  Do they think so lowly of me

  To think I can’t apply my own medication

  Curse them

  Curse them all, I say!

  I long for the days of old

  When my sight was still strong

  I miss my blue ceiling

  And its tender reminder of life outside these walls

  I was a man of nobility

  Before I was punished for daring to want more

  Suddenly, a faint voice calls out to me.

  I perk my ears and listen

  Nothing

  I think it strange but pay it no mind

  Until I hear it again

  I ask the boy to my left if he can hear it as well

  But I am left with a swift dismission

  He jokes that I’m growing old

  I stifle a scowl.

  I try to let it go, but it rings out again

  Only louder and much more clear

  An invitation?

  To what I think to myself

  And in answer, I hear them in the back of my mind

  An invitation to join a beautiful choir

  One that will shape the very stone this castle lies on

  Oh god, perhaps I am going mad

  Not mad they say, only ahead of the curve

  I try to silence the voice.

  However, like how snakes throttle their prey

  They maintain their iron grip, unwilling to move

  Get out.

  I can feel them worming through my brain

  Whether physical or purely mental, I do not know

  I scream out loud, get out!

  The boy drops the medicine as he rushes to my side

  Are you okay?

  He asks, his cold hand, sending shivers through my pinstriped vest

  I slap it away.

  Even if I go mad, I shall never take his pity

  His every word is tainted with that needling tone that I despise

  I feel them in my very veins.

  With each passing second, they get closer to the front of my head

  To my old useless eyes

  I feel sick to my stomach

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  A cacophony of string instruments plays.

  Within their songs, they promise me the impossible

  Showing visions of a different world

  One unfathomable to human eyes

  I weep silently.

  Unsure if it’s due to sadness or happiness beyond compare

  A paradise not on this earth but rather within the stars

  Hidden deep into the depths of another plane of existence

  One only accessible through navigating the depths of the mortal coil

  A beautiful, fervent parade dedicated to a glorious lord.

  Oh, blessed be!

  Oh, blessed be!

  We are next in line to take part

  And you have sent your messengers to ask me to join you

  I have never felt so honored

  But I cannot serve you.

  My eyes they are faulty, not fit for your service

  A poison made of plant toxins has been dripped into them

  A singer's voice cuts through the deepest recesses of my mind.

  I apologize, I do not understand what you’ve said

  Once again the voice speaks, their voice ephemeral yet so soothing

  I understand now.

  I laugh and I laugh as I weep

  The boy again asked me in a shaky voice what was happening

  But I see through their attempt to deride me

  And I let him know as such

  I hear his footsteps while he runs to seek help

  I cannot help but scream and laugh

  I know he won’t make it

  I hear his cough.

  That evolves into gagging on his own blood

  I hear a repulsing noise as something falls to the floor with a squish

  He crashes against the dresser next to the door

  Then the unthinkable happens

  I can see.

  I can see!

  Oh, blessed be this dark night!

  I can't see colors

  Or rather I only see in shades of white, black, and brilliant crimson

  But it does not matter

  For I can now see more than I ever have before

  I can see sounds!

  I can see smells!

  I could even see your glorious eyes right outside the balcony decorating the crimson sky

  Praise be you beautiful being!

  I look over to my servant

  His organs, bones, and muscles spill out of his mouth

  Emptying his vessel for a most clement lord to make use of

  Once he has finished

  He shall be nothing more than an empty pile of sentient flesh

  Clinging to the plush red carpet

  I chortle to myself

  Then I hear it.

  A song so beautiful I can not contain myself

  I pirouette toward the balcony

  My heart filled with gratitude

  I see them.

  Your cloaked messengers draped in the flesh of lesser beings

  Adorned with your most spectacular symbol

  Carved into their mouthless faces

  Pleochroic jewels where their eyes once laid

  Inhumanly tall, they raise their arms of bone and point toward the balcony doors

  I understand what I must do.

  I throw myself through the balcony in a state of euphoric mania

  The glass shatters, cutting through my loathed pinstriped vest

  I cannot help but cry as I yell out to the sky

  Not in grief but rather as a way to announce my coming

  I will join you soon in your parade

  Away from this disgusting castle cell

  Away from these fools who stifled me for oh-so-long

  Away from that blue ceiling that was painted to keep chained

  All the way to your much more liberating sea of eyes

  I stumble my way through the balcony

  Unable to keep still from sheer elation

  I push myself up onto the stone railing.

  I stand here, alone physically but surrounded in spirit

  Your cloaked choir does not sing.

  They line up behind me, watching my every move

  It does not matter

  For once, I begin to sing, they follow along with their hymns

  Together we produce a grandiose song dedicated to you and you alone

  With a voice that is not my own

  I take the lead

  It’s sweet and loud

  It’s low and deep

  It's pure perfection!

  I thank you.

  As I come to my final lyric, I have the best view of the city

  For I can see it all now

  The pointed tips of manors and chapels down to rundown streets

  Where men, women, and children take their roles in your parade

  Skin becomes bone, bone becomes muscle and muscle becomes lumps of skin

  I swear to sing your hymns for as long as this parade ventures forth

  I look into your million eyes in the sky

  And with a bow, I fall off the railing

  Laughing as I do in combination with their song

  Which has now reached a fever pitch

  A crescendo of song builds the lower I go!

  It dwarfs every other noise in its vicinity!

  Until the church bell rings with a brass cling.

  A dark omen as another body crashes to the cold ground on this dreadful night.