The clown grips the wheel, Knuckles white, smile red, A grimace carved in borrowed flesh.
Yellow signs blur past, Warnings he no longer reads— He laughs into the void, Unheard, unseen, unstoppable.
The road stretches thin, Vanishing into pale horizons, As his reflection grins back, A joke no one gets anymore.
Outside, the world forgets itself, But the clown drives on— The engine purring like regret, The mask permanent, The ride endless.