The Clown

A dark poem for those that hate clowns.

 He dances and hops
with an awry smile
from ally to ally
with whirls and spins.

 Singing so happy
vocally mad
making balloons
for anyone sad

 For your amusement
he'd travel around
for money he makes
that smile a frown.

 It's in the ally's
you wouldn't believe
this clown had issues
he took back street.

 From ear to ear
his smile would be
for Happy the clown
was a butcher indeed.

 On with joy
his weapon was sharp
at night he cleaves you
dead in the dark.