I open the door and enter backstage, a buzz is in the air, I walk with a skip and smile on my face, as happy as I may, permit.
Its the night of the show, with the spolight on me, an effulgent glow I do emit.
Its time to get ready, the makeup and costumes, the 'masks' that make me, feel like me. Whenever I am up there, out on that stage, its the only place I can truly feel free.
My act is coming up next, I st backstage, waiting, as the butterflies flutter about. I take a deep breath and center myself, its time to knock this out...
I bow low with a smile, and tears in my eyes, the applause is defeaning, the crowd jubliant with joy as my praises they sing.
To perform at the peak of ones craft and pull it all off, truly makes me feel like a king.
To think I was broken, not long ago, before I stumbled upon my calling. Forlorn and lost without hope for the future.
If there's one lesson I've learnt through the highs and the lows, its to catch myself when I find I am forestalling.
Clowning isn't a mask at all, its an expression, pure at heart, where once I was small and had nothing at all, to be a clown has only made me feel tall.