He stares into the mirror. Unable to recognize the man, who looks back at him. The joke. Dreary eyed, the skin of his eyelids so thin, they appear transparent. His lips stretched and black, form a smile curling to the tips of his ear lobes. His eerie laugh transitions from laughter to a painful screech, lastly fading into a soft distorted whimper. He knows that he must wipe his tears. “The show must go on.” He muttered. He applies the chalk white powder onto his already dried, lifeless skin. Smearing black circles around his eyes and red paint onto his lips. He smiles, remembering a time when his teeth were not rotten and his spirit was youthful, filled with life and passion. Those days are long gone now. A red curtain behind him is all that lies between him and the act. He exits onto the stage, filled with fraudulent laughter. The audience loves it, but does he?