Class clown

sometimes happiness is just a persona

Smiles. Chuckles. Laughs.

The centre of attention had become expected from her.

But nonetheless she thrived off the applauds for her,

living for the exhilaration of other's approval.

But the battle she had with oneself's was brutal,

she would cry out for help but all that came out was a whisper.

She didn't need white and red makeup covering her drained skin and a colourful costume to be called a joker,

as the teacher would tell the other girls to not provoke her.

But little did they know it was those cheap thrills that kept her on her feet,

and without them she couldn't help but think her life was on a repeat.

The familiar ponytails filled the hallway,

they only knew her for large, cheerful school charisma.

But that happiness was only an outside stigma.

For at home it was the crimson blood

that watered the seeds for her will to live another day.

She will live tomorrow wearing long sleeves,

and not because it is cold.

Is it not the class clown

who is best at hiding a frown?

Author's Note

I am only 16, still learning

Reviews

[Anne’sRants]

i believe everyone has two faces. the one they wear in public, and the one they wear in private. I love how evident both of them were in this poem. great write

[Scarlet]

I really love this. It feels like you're there, and it's beautiful.

[Rye]

wow, so deeply emotional, this is so very well written and done

[DAH]

"But the battle she had with oneself's was brutal,
she would cry out for help but all that came out was a whisper" this line carries so much info,
so much pain.

There's something deeply emotional and Gothic about this character, and the helplessness ...

Good job!
DAH

[katsmeow]

You have painted a picture, an accurate and insightful picture. Very well done.