Concealer

The Clown looked in the mirror and realized he had nothing funny to say.
The red nose was mocking his state.

How could he have ever let the world view him this way?

The clown tried to chuckle but to his dismay there was only truth and reality and not a hint of humor in his stare.

The clown continued to gaze and reflect analyzing his perception.

He began to realize the scars underneath the paint are his true perfection.

How could he ever let the world view him this way?

The clown ruffled and teased still tying to appease the waiting crowd that sat on the edge of their seats waiting for the opportunity to laugh at the clown.

Why did he let the world view him this way?

He paced around not recognizing that seriousness was obtainable by a clown.
He kicked off the shoes that distorted his gait, that made him tilt off balance instead of standing straight.

The Clown looked in the mirror seeing he was never short but has always been six feet tall.

Smiling to himself but no one chimed in, people seldom do when they see a positive change from within, sometimes a dangerous fate for them.

The clown tilted his head to the left and then to the right.
The voice in his mind trying to make sense of what's in sight.

The clown washed away the painted on smile and heard someone shriek from the crowd.
"Without the cliche what will we do now?"

The painted on smile was preventing him from voicing what he truly wanted to say that the joke was not on him today.

He was done with the world seeing him this way.