She is told that she is a confident girl,
Yet they do not know the poison she mutters to herself in her late-night world.
Lying awake, bloodshot eyes;
All the smiles she fakes,
Feed deep into her sweet white lies.
“You are a very happy and outgoing person.”
If only they knew how she is when she is alone.
Tired of it all, taking in so much.
Everyone’s little angel.
How foolish to ever picture her broken wings;
So light, pure radiance.
Crushing inside, silent aches.
Seldom though, the truth is hidden.
“Oh, you are such an extrovert.”
Not one bit,
But she doesn’t argue- it’s better that way.
She wears her mask every day,
Til’ right cold at night,
Where she lay,
Trying to be alright.
Conversations she keeps,
On a constant replay,
Are so deep,
Her own minds betray.
She wakes to late-night nightmares,
Obliged to use different shades,
To conceal her tired eyes at dawn.
She smiles with all her heart,
To disguise the pain behind her eyes.
‘I want to make them see the potential they have,’
She reminds herself.
Holding herself once more in, before getting off her bed-
No one’s got a clue.
It can be frightening,
To enter her world.
To only find scars, bruises, and tales,
That don’t match her persona.
‘Well, diary, it was another successful day- I made a person’s day today. I look forward to it again tomorrow.’
She closes her diary- shuts the light,
Staring into the cold dark night.
No one knows,
It doesn’t worry her,
Not one bit,
So it goes.