Freakshow

You exit the archway.

Your hair is all messed up

The make-up and tears crawl down your face.

 

They called you a freakshow, didn’t they?

Paid to look like a drugged-up clown.

Like a used prostitute on the street.

 

You stand there in humiliation.

This is not what you wanted.

You wished there was more to this.

But the joke was all on you.

Reviews

[JustNeedToBeHappy]

This reminded me a lot of a very good song by Joy Division, "Atrocity Exhibition", I don't know if you've heard it :) I adore this, anyway, it's very stark and raw :)

[Moflo]

I like this poem for its brutal realism, the revelation hits "you" like a ton of bricks and the pain is felt throughout. Great write.