I open my notebook, then i take a pen
I’m supposed to write a new poem
But all what is scribbled on the paper 
Is that drop of my tears flowing from my eyes
No idea runs through my head
My heart is bleeding again
Too much emotions stifle my breath
So much hatred burns my depth
So much fears block my steps
I am the clown who makeup her face with the blood of her wounds
Hiding her tears with an artificial smile acting like a fool
Dressing up in color her dark bone
And singing hope with her hopeless voice
Everyone wants to buy my life
Everyone envies the mask wearing on my face
But I wonder if they want to take my sad secret garden with them
I wonder if they are able to live with a deep pain 24/7 day and night 
I wonder if those haters have one single idea about my poor past
I wonder if those jealous are ready to walk on my cold rainy path
Yes I prefer to be your clown always fine
Cause I’m not ready to reveal who I am
I’m still weak can’t face my pain
I don’t wish to let you see me cry
I don’t hope to open my 24 years-old scars.
I’m the clown of life who never knew what she wants
I’m the clown who is lost in the valley of the dolls