Tired of being a clown

I wake up an hour early in the morning,
Getting ready for a brand new day.
I stare at the mirror,
Making sure my makeup’s just nice,
Playing around with my hair to set it right,
Posing to find the perfect smile I’ll wear today.
I want everything to be perfect.
I look at my own reflection.
I hardly know her anymore.
All I can do right now
Is to make myself look happy,
Even if I am weeping inside.

Like a clown,
I show my best to make people laugh.
I hide my sorrows to silently shed tears.
I want to look good.
With people’s perception that I am perfectly fine,
I will really be fine.
This I am thankful...

I walk around the streets alone,
Putting on the widest smile possible.
I surround myself with friends,
Laughing at anything that is supposed to be funny,
Chatting in a care-free manner,
Making sure I am likeable by everyone.
I want everything to be perfect.
“She has a perfect life!”
How I wish those words are true.
All I can do right now
Is to make myself look perfect,
Even if I know nothing will be the same again.

Like a clown,
I show my best to make people laugh.
I hide my sorrows for nobody really cares.
I want to look good.
With people thinking I am perfect,
I will really be perfect.
This I am thankful...

With people repeatedly saying I am lucky,
Maybe I will be lucky.
Maybe, just maybe...
I will finally be happy.
Everything will finally be fine.
And I will finally not be
Like a clown.

This I hope…