A Black Pierrot
I am a black pierrot:
She did not love me,
So I crept away into the night
And the night was black, too.
I am a black pierrot:
She did not love me,
So I wept until the red dawn
Dripped blood over the eastern hills
And my heart was bleeding, too.
I am a black pierrot:
She did not love me,
So with my once gay colored soul
shrunken like a balloon without air,
I went forth in the morning
To seek a new brown love.
From The Weary Blues (Alfred A. Knopf, 1926) by Langston Hughes. This poem is in the public domain.