Its face white purity of a colour
Hiding sin,
Cloaking hatred
Supressing that within,
With a smile of red smudged lips
The bright coloured clothes,
A flower adorned this kaleidoscope
Of colour, fragrant stench
To conceal,    
To cloak
To distort  
That which hid behind, delved beneath,
Laughter heard, insanities last gasp,
That clown of a thousand smiles,
Which one would you see as his flowers
Pollen greats your senses, a last breath
He chuckles,
He giggles,
He sheds a tear
So many have fallen, smudged is the white,
Bleeding black beneath white clouded skin.
He has tricks of the trade,
Balloons he blows up,
"Make something"
So he twists and turns
Rubber squeaks, form to air surrounds
"A balloon gun"
As he laughs his soon to be last,
Can you say "BANG"
"Bang"
As he points his balloon as the gentlemen laughs
Can you say "POP"
With an exhale of word,
A head does "POP"
Bits of red rubber covers the crowd,
"Any one want to see another trick"
He laughs out his insane laugh,
Who laughing now people as he lets out his deranged  *laugh.