The Sad Clown
He paints the smile a little wide
to hide the ache he holds inside
the children laugh, the crowd leans near
he juggles hope and hides the fear
His boots are patched, his cheeks are red
but something quiet fills his head
a thousand eyes, not one can see
the weight he wears so carefully
He falls, he slips, they cheer, they grin
and no one sees the world within
his laughter sounds, rehearsed and bright
but fades when curtains close at night
He wipes the white off with a sigh
and stares into the mirror dry
no words to speak, no tears to fall
just silence pressed against the wall
They clap, they cheer, they never guess
his joke’s the shield, his gift’s the mess
yet still he bows, still takes his place
the sad clown with the painted face
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
Where would this world be without the clowns to make their and our lives just a bit brighter? Good job.
nice