Book of Boris — Chapter XLII: The Split
Verse 1: They hear the weight in my words, like hammers on stone. Every line a verdict, every pause a judgment.
Verse 2: But inside? The Clown wheezes. The furnace chuckles. I’m dying of laughter at how serious they think it is.
Verse 3: They see the wall. I feel the comedy. That’s the split— the fear outside, the grin within.