~Standard disclaimers apply. I do not own Gundam Wing and affiliated companies or Suits and characters (much as I dream and wish about it...) no matter how hard I try to overrun them and take over and make Duo be my little koibito. I only bend them and make them play out my little fantasies and stories and stuff. Do not sue me because I have absolutely kuso. You would make no profit in this action. If you would sue a great fan for writing about what makes her happy, which only elates her further, then you are a kisama.~
This is a poem about Trowa who works as a clown in the circus. It is about how he feels about being seen as a clown. And how he feels about certain other things, like the Gundam pilots and even a short bit about Catherine Bloom.
~Clown~
That is all I am seen as.
A clown.
Those who know me better.
Those who know what I really am.
They are those who live a short life.
Except a few chosen.
They I will allow to live for now.
I either care for them or am one of them.
But I am one of no one.
And I care for none.
They simply are the same as me,
But much, much different.
I can see it in the way they act.
I can see it in the way they pilot their Gundams.
Or throw their knives.
And in their eyes.
The eyes will never lie.
No matter how hard they try to.
I have figured out how to see the eyes differently.
As few do.
I have also learned how to just see differently.
On the outside and the inside.
But sometimes those are corrupt or damaged.
I can not help there.
They are unseeable.
That is when I wear the clown's mask.
The one with the tear.
I guess I am a clown.
All my emotions are on masks.
I don't have any on my face.
I guess I truly am...
Nothing more than a clown.
~Trowa Barton
This is a poem about Trowa who works as a clown in the circus. It is about how he feels about being seen as a clown. And how he feels about certain other things, like the Gundam pilots and even a short bit about Catherine Bloom.
~Clown~
That is all I am seen as.
A clown.
Those who know me better.
Those who know what I really am.
They are those who live a short life.
Except a few chosen.
They I will allow to live for now.
I either care for them or am one of them.
But I am one of no one.
And I care for none.
They simply are the same as me,
But much, much different.
I can see it in the way they act.
I can see it in the way they pilot their Gundams.
Or throw their knives.
And in their eyes.
The eyes will never lie.
No matter how hard they try to.
I have figured out how to see the eyes differently.
As few do.
I have also learned how to just see differently.
On the outside and the inside.
But sometimes those are corrupt or damaged.
I can not help there.
They are unseeable.
That is when I wear the clown's mask.
The one with the tear.
I guess I am a clown.
All my emotions are on masks.
I don't have any on my face.
I guess I truly am...
Nothing more than a clown.
~Trowa Barton