The Clown
by Ems
What if I told you
I was not fake
just stitched together
from borrowed light
and survival tricks
An illusion of a person
so convincing
even I believed it
I learned early
how to perform warmth
How to laugh on cue
How to turn chaos
into charm
Because survival
sometimes looks like smiling
with smoke in your lungs
People love someone funny
until the confetti
starts bleeding
Behind closed doors
I am a burning clown
makeup melting into my hands
thoughts pacing holes
through the dark
Every joke
a stitched up wound
Every grin
another emergency exit
You see a functioning person
I see duct tape
holding a hurricane together
I mastered eye contact
timed responses
the choreography of appearing okay
Not because I wanted applause
because invisible things
still have to eat
Still have to survive
another Thursday
There are nights
the silence grows teeth
Nights where exhaustion
sits on my chest
like an unpaid debt
But morning still arrives
expecting performance
So I paint the face again
Strike the match again
Step back into the circus
like the fire never touched me
Still
believe this
No counterfeit soul
could carry this much ruin
and continue breathing
No illusion
keeps rebuilding itself
from ashes
nobody else notices
So if I seemed unreal
it was only because
survival demanded costume after costume
until even my reflection
forgot what was underneath
But here is the truth
The clown is on fire
because it is real
And real things burn
More by Ems
Ems's full record: their portfolio on Writory.
Published on the Writory Wall, which is free to post to and free to read · enter the November contest