Coco, The Clown

Did you ever hear the tale of the clown with the bleeding wrists?
It's a story, with a gory twist.

A clown (let's call him Coco) was a great clown indeed,
He provided any kind of entertainment you could need.
Long story short, Coco was an excellent clown.
Yet no one knew that behind his flaking make up, was a frown.

Coco wore long sleeves, even in the summer
He would sweat, like a marathon runner.
But still Coco wore his sleeves of secrets and tricks
That clown Coco, like a window made of bricks.

One day Coco didn't show up for work, people started to worry
After a few days, the search for Coco escalated in a hurry.
One little girl was walking on the street
She decided to go down an alley way, to escape the heat.

She was nearly home, when something shiny caught her eye
(Because you see, children are like magpies)
As she drew nearer, she saw splatters of blood on the concrete
She started to wish, she had taken the heat
She looked between the bins, where the trail lead
And there lay Coco, snow white and dead.

The shiny fragment that stopped her were bottle pieces
Broken into a million bits, hidden in a thousand creases
She studied Coco, in a sad silence
She wondered if he had been a victim of violence.

But when she saw that his sleeves were rolled up
And surrounded him was enough blood to fill 100 cups
His pale arms decorated with cuts
He looked so peaceful, his face smooth and eyes shut.

She looked at Coco, the broken clown
And marveled at how well a smile can cover a frown
She tipped her head to the side and studied his scars
And screamed until strangers ran from their cars
Where they gathered to gawp at Coco's secret shame
They stood and gossiped about poor Coco's pain.