You sit in a room filled with people.
You put on your mask, your life.
The tears you cried the night before are nothing.
To let them know your weak is not permitted.
I look at you and see through you.
A fake, someone raised to keep their chin up, no matter what.
Arguements at home keep you up.
Dark circles are covered up with make up.
Bruises hid and bloody scars covered up with long sleeves.
Afraid to let anybody in even at your lowest point.
At school its Ms. Perfect, at home Ms. Hidden and scared.
Living two very seperate lives. Dying in one but hanging on to the other one for dear life.
So you will learn, you will grow weak and you will need help.