popped - out of the freakshow donning a ball of red on my nose, and blue streaks of paint running down my eyes. to you, i look like a jester - but,  these lines are but tears i couldn’t shed in the form of paint to me. in  fact, coat  my entire face with the blue dye for the stains of dissapointment that spread their invisible contagion across my face - like a bacteria infecting me.
under the pale paint that has concealed my tired skin is filth and dirt that no water can cleanse of.
so circus master,
do i stay a ridiculement in this hurting society
as this pompous identity that you forged,
hiding my true blemishes & stains or
be at liberty & viewed as
disgusting as i
am always
seen as?