The Performance

My heart beats an unsteady pace,
When my eyes soak on the features of your face.
Whether this is caused by love, I do not know, 
For around different audiences, you perform a specific show.

Around me, you are a humorous, eccentric clown,
Purposely acting like a fool to turn my frown upside-down.
But around the people of a higher class and rank,
You're the booth-keeper, greedily pursuing people to dunk me in the tank.
Switching between costumes, masks, and acts,
Makes me doubt the integrity of your speech and facts,
I guess I'm just the simple, inexperienced acrobat,
Walking carefully and unsteadily, trying not to fall and sway our format,
Eventually all this glamour, dazzle, and show,
Will not compensate for the never-ending woe,
Of constantly being played for a fool,
And being used as one of the show's main tool.

Eventually the show will end and there is a mess left to clean,
The tent will come down and all that glimmer and gleam,
Would be nothing more than a long-forgotten dream.
And you, without regrets, will move on to other places you see,
And continue the performance to bring yourself and others glee,
While I am abandoned, without an applause or encore,
Since I have fallen from the tightrope and can't get up from the sore.