Tears of a Clown

They think it's just paint.
Just a thick layer of white, bought for pennies in the subway.
They think the smile is drawn to make them happy.
Idiots.
The smile is drawn... so I don't scream.


The cotton pad turns black, wiping off a stranger's face.
In the mirror — it's not me, but the one I fear to embrace.
This smell — rancid oil and the dust of the wings,
Soaked into pores, eaten into skin, like a virus that clings,
Like sweet poison.
I sell them my shame, they call it "talent" and cheer.
I fall face down in the sawdust — they shout "Viva!", sincere.


Look! Look how the plaster is cracking apart!
Beneath it isn't a man — beneath is a naked nerve, a heart!
You paid for the laughter, but no change will be returned.
The box office is closed. The lights have burned.

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It is not tears, it is just water!
Mixed with the greasepaint, oh what a slaughter!
Salt eats away the fake blush and the lies,
I dance for you my last dance as the spirit dies!
Don't pity the jester, don't stare point-blank,
When the curtain falls — I'm the judge to thank!
And the executioner too!




You know what’s most terrifying in the silence of the dressing room?
The mirror doesn't blink. It signals doom.
It waits for me to take off this red nose.
To ask: "So who are you now, without the applause, without the pose?"
I am king for an hour, a god in a foolish hat.
But when I wash off this damn makeup... just like that...
I remain no one.
Just a shadow in an empty corridor.


Laugh! Come on! Louder!
I feed on your laughter, on it I choke!
You think I cry from pain? Is that the joke?
No! I cry from rage!
From the fact that I love this cage!
I love this hell!


It is not tears, it is just water!
Let it flow down my face, let it burn like mortar!
Salt on my lips — is the taste of my truth,
Tomorrow on stage again, craving the booth!
Wash off this disgrace! Erase every feature!
Beneath the clown's mask — a hollow creature...

And you.


Just water.
Curtain.