I started writing a poem six years ago. I never finished it. It was called “The Fool”. A “fool” is another name for a court jester (clowns whose job was to make kings laugh). “Fool” is an especially good name for them because they often used self-deprecation or sarcastic humor to make people laugh. Back when I started the poem, I felt like all I was to the people around me was a fool in the way I just described. My only purpose was to make others laugh - no matter the cost to myself. No matter how much it hurt or how much personality makeup I had to put on to make them smile. I feel like a fool again… a fool who puts everything into others and little into himself. But what if the fool has feelings too? What if the fool wants to laugh and smile not only for a show? What then?