PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Is it strange, you think, to befriend an invisible clown?
A clown who jokes about the inevitable, always bouncing around.
A clown of no demeanor, no morals, logic nor danger.
A smile which only inverts, if I refuse to hurt a stranger.
The kind of sick and twisted mind, who sits on my bed
and since the age of four, convinces me I am dead.
A clown who seems so real, I feel his flaking skin,
I see the dust which falls from him and the paint wipe from his chin.
A clown of which causes a desertion, of my every single fear,
leaves a simple hate of him or the fear of him being here.
Can you concoct an imagination so immaculate and clean,
that you can feel their aura even when unseen.
When he forms from shadow things, Even dead convention,
He emerges and suffocates me with his evil intention.
Slowly filling memories with pain, blood and murder.
Until he delves into the matters so much deep and further.
his menacing glare, opaque hair, tattered paint on face of evil flair.
Into my eyes he often stares,
blood covered circumvention of moral affair.
Is it so strange I know this Invisible Clown?
A Clown who murders everyone in my home town?
Showing me images I can't... won't comprehend.
who is my only phobia but alas my only friend...