The Comical Man

Coulrophobia isn't so silly now is it?

I try to ignore the comical man

With his painted face and caressing hands.

He comes from behind and touches my back.

I hear his squeaky shoes and haunting laugh.

The hairs on my back rise at his stroke;

His tattered, rainbow wig on my cheek.

When I feel his lips come down to my face I revoke

And try to run away, but he's got a hold of me.

There's no way to escape him now;

This dark, twisted, manipulative clown.

Tears stream down my newly painted face

My body tense at his eerie embrace.

I have become his precious new toy

Lying on the floor next to his colorful clothes;

For my body the comical man did enjoy.

Now I know the last thing I will ever see is his blood red nose.

Author's Note

I HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE CLOWNS!!! They are creepy and you always hear about the ones who rape or kill, so to show to everyone that coulrophobia is no joke and that there's a reason for this fear that flows through me, I wrote a poem about it.