A broad smile on her lips,
Not quite reaching her eyes.
I sit on the sidelines and wonder,
How she manages to fake it every time.
Her laughter is always the loudest,
Her jokes always the wittiest.
Her friends give her an escape,
From a world filled with problems.
She hesitantly enters her house,
Greeted by slamming doors and breaking plates.
Her fake smile disappears,
As she finishes her part in the play.
She runs upstairs to her room,
Shuts the door behind her.
She enters the bathroom,
And picks up her favourite weapon.
As she feels the pain,
Running up her arm.
She knows that this time,
The pain won’t last.
She continues her ritual,
For longer than usual.
She has already given up,
And taken off her mask.
As she lies on the cold floor,
The world’s edges seem to blur.
She closes her eyes for the last time,
And lets the darkness engulf her.
Her friends and family weep,
Saddened by their loss.
While I weep at my nonchalance,
Despite having seen behind her mask.
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