He lived the theatre motto, the show it must go on <br />But hid behind the made-up face, a life so very wrong <br />His uniform a badge, of his work that made him proud <br />All were brightly coloured, matched his booming voice so loud <br /> <br />A quiet man so meek and mild, was bullied all through school <br />Colin found the one way out; he played the old class fool <br />The only way to stop these names, was joining in their games <br />Just laughed along ignored the pain, and tried to mask his shame <br /> <br />So leaving school a broken man, forever feeling down <br />He did what came so naturally, and went to play the clown <br />Straight away he was a hit, they came from miles around <br />The circus was a sell-out, joking genius had been found <br /> <br />Yes every night Colin dressed, and all would chant his name <br />His clowning tricks and clowning games, was bringing him this fame <br />In curly wig and baggy pants, he felt at total ease <br />Big red nose and comedy feet, his job was just to please <br /> <br />But come the end of Showtime, when everyone goes home <br />The pain returns to torture him, he suffers all alone <br />The tears they flow they burn and etch, the make-up hides a frown <br />So no one knows, as no one sees, the tears of a clown<br /><br />Mark Richardson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tears-of-a-clown-2/
