She looks in the mirror, and what does she see?
Something frail, broken, and unfree.
She sees the pain swollen in her eyes.
She sees the cuts she marked on her thighs.
She looks at herself with an empty stare
With her crooked smile and her messy hair.
Her mind is spoiled with terrible thoughts.
The anxiety she suffers puts her stomach in knots.
Her eyes are stained from countless tears.
Her thoughts corrupted with constant fears.
She grabs the bottle to numb her pain.
She feels as if she’ll never break the chain.
After she cries herself to sleep
And there’s no more tears left to weep,
She’ll wake up, put on that mask and smile.
She’ll walk like it’s nothing because that’s just her style.
People will walk past her and she’ll wave with pride,
But nobody knows she’s actually dying inside.
She’ll go home, and she’ll close her door.
The mask comes off as she lays on the floor.
Again she wipes her tears with her stained bed sheets.
She cries for the night, wakes up, repeat