King of Clowns

First piece I ever wrote. Written at age 15

King of Clowns

The King of Clowns sat upon his vibrant throne, his painted smile exuding happiness. The lipstick, long rivers of deep red, immaculately grafted to his features. Behind the jolly exterior sat the truth; an open mouth would reveal the harsh reality, a fact that no amount of false pretence could hide. A forked tongue and yellow, cracked, bloodstained teeth hidden from all by his excited mirage. He knew however he could not disguise the reality behind his eyes. So he put them away, in a purse hung upon his lap. He hid them from view, pretending the gems drawn upon his eyelids would fool those who sought his guidance. In his right hand he held a sceptre. It stood regal, crafted from valuable metals and rare gemstone. Upon the tip of his staff hung bells, sat there at his own expense, for the madmen and jesters of his court to laugh at. Keeping them distracted from his lies and deceptions. In his left hand he held his heart. Torn from his chest by jagged talons, sharpened upon his fingertips. The rhythm of it's own work caused the pump to bleed. Though the veins and arteries were simply ties; left to connect the article to the black chasm in his chest, now left barren and empty like the void. He wanted it gone, to free it and give it away, to have it salvaged from his torso. Though the day it was taken, he knew he would die. Upon its removal he would never be seen as whole by its saviour. In the mortuary the physicians would wash away the smile that donned his lips. They would find the truth in his eyes and the reality behind his mask, No one would ever accept; the King of Clowns.

Author's Note

Any help is appreciated. Not sure whether to turn it into a novel, or just polish.