Black and White sepia tattered photo clown in an empty Circus tent

They laugh. They always laugh. But none of them stay after the lights die. I sit here, paint cracked, clothes stained with the weight of pretending. The silence presses harder than the applause ever did. They don’t know what it costs to wear joy as a mask when inside, everything is hollow. I was never meant to be the joke. Yet here I am, the only one left in the dark when the show is over. A deeply emotional piece💕