Pogo the clown they call me
You can call me John W. Gacy too
But be aware of who I also am .
The Killer Clown
People dread me
My thick white skin with the flashing cherry cheeks
The laughing scarlett lips combined with a dazzling red nose is how I appear.
Can you see it?
The big colourful balloons in my hand?
Can you smell it?
Buttery Popcorn, crystal sweet cotton candy, the kids fear?
Can you hear it?
Children's laughter, mother's tears, my deceased thoughts?
Now don't be afraid of me.
I am like you.
I had a childhood too you know. Born in the windy city.
Praised with drinking, praised with hitting, bruises went and came, but where did the love go?
Daddy? why weren't you ever proud of me?
I tried... I tried so hard...
You know, I never hated you
I never hated those boys either...
33 of them stacked in my crawl space.
33 cold fleshes, roating, molding... enjoying...
You want to know my first boy?
My first love?
His name was McCoy
McCoy my boy
The first to join my crawl space
The first I experienced the thrill of killing
The first to die.
When the knife hits the gorgeous sun kissed flesh
My spirit rose
When it shabs against pearly bones
An indescribable bliss floods through my body
When the sweet red nectar drink of the reaper comes pouring out I scream with joy!
33 boys
33 chances
33 dead and I Loved every single one of them.
