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The Clown's Last Hurrah

The Clown's Last Hurrah
This story is about a clown- a clown I've seen many times before. I've seen him dance like his legs would never tire, and I've heard him sing like his voice would never die. This story's about a clown.
the clown's
layered skin
the clown's
layered shade
He's made to think he's everything
that can't become unmade
But once upon a former time, this clown was not a clown. He didn't have a single layer upon his naked skin. But he still danced… and he still sung… so very long ago. I swear he did.
With all
the grey
upon the sky
What makes you laugh
will make you cry
It rained down
his bitter eyes…
as the sky began to die
I saw him dance, I saw him sing, I saw a bit of everything. But all I recall is the first day he tried to remember what it was… that used to make him smile.
All the rain
had chased away
what was layered
on his skin
The sky began to laugh,
but wouldn't laugh again
The red upon the ground
might as well had been
the crimson red
rouged upon
his arteries within
A mile in his shoes, I never could have walked. They were too big, of course, but it was more than that. I just couldn't imagine what it would be like to stand in front of everyone… as all the layers on my skin were slowly washed away.
The powder seeped
upon his neck
His shoulder stained
with blue
The hue upon the ground
was all he ever knew
It could've been any one of us; but luckily the clown… took the fall for all of us. His eyes were looking down.
Jesterly, he gestured
what would be his final vow
Walked away in silence
He walked away… somehow
Back inside his dressing room, I recall that he recalled. His legs were tired and his voice was sore, but he remembered through it all. He threw his wig in the trash and his cosmetics out the window. But he scavenged through the emptiness to find what he would find.
From grin to his chagrin,
his reality had been
that nothing more could make him smile
And the layers on his skin
were added by a time
and the impurity of men…
and the fear of one day losing
the capacity to grin…
and the fear of one day singing
with a voice that's wearing thin…
and the fear of one day dancing
to a song that had to end
The maquillage had covered
all he had within

This story's about a clown, but it's much more than that. This story's about how… I wish the rain would cry… upon my sullied face… and wash away the impurities the years and I have added. But yea… this story's about a clown.