The Comedian

Like a clown with made-up face,
running like it's a tough race,
from the thoughts I know haunt me,
joking, smile plastered happy.

They keep me around just to laugh,
need me like a farm needs a calf.
But why do I do it, what am I paid?
When will I fall in love and get laid?

But they can read me like a book,
silence me with a menacing look.
I'm the comedian; that's who I am.
I should be happy as a clam.

Okay, I'm not sure I like this poem. I feel really bad in sayng this, but it's just not all there for me. First of all, your rhyming seems rather forced, to the point where the last two lines especially don't make any sense whatsoever, and your first stanza barely makes any more. I would highly suggest free verse to fix this problem, because you seem to write to fit rhymes in, instead of having that be a side effect of writing your poem. Also, the flow is really off. There seems to be a loss of a beat in the poem. There should be a set beat, like three a line, or something that varies a little but remains relatively the same. Because these two things are lacking, it makes it rather difficult to read this poem.

I'm really sorry that this seems so harsh, but I just wanted to say what needed to be said.

I would agree with Fiyero, the fist stanza was a bit confusing.
Comedian and Clown are two different types of entertainers.
Furthermore, it seems so rushed as if there was no thought into it.
I suggest that you do your research and re-write it.
Have no feelings or rhythm, try to find a beat. Don’t force it.