The Writer

She writes everything she feels. She pours her heart out just to feel something inside that's real.
She sees love, hate, pleasure and lust. She tries to feel it too but all she can do is understand what it might feel like.
Her heart has endured more than anyone's should. She has lost old friendships, she has fought losing battles and now she stands in the middle of a crowd, searching for something hidden, something she knows not of truly.

She understands and comprehends all that her black eyes see.
Though she wishes she could feel it all too, she is unable to find what she needs. Looking in all the wrong places, all she has found is pain, misery and sorrow. She is stuck with people she can not harm, but every fiber in her body screams to rip everyone apart.

She can transform herself into whatever her surrounding might require. From a gracious host to the life of an event. She tries to keep everyone happy. She tries to please all those around her.
She grows tired of her present life. She wishes to breakout and show everyone what she is truly like.
However, she is afraid. Frightened, to be true. She fears rejection from all those around her too.

Her true form isn't hideous, she's beautiful, it's true.
Her true form is much too much to handle and to take in, and already she feeds of low of love and acceptance, she'd die if it all were to go.

Her face is masked with fake smiles and her being echoes with laughter from her childhood.
She makes you believe that she is happy, though the truth couldn't be more further.

She denies that she suffers from unhappiness. She denies that she's lost. She denies that she is broken inside. She denies it all, just so she wouldn't be a burden on anyone.

She helps and gives advice. She tells you what's right.
She understands everything you say, she understands it all for your sake.

She listens to everyone else's sorrows, and never speak of her own.
Her friends read every page of her blog, but they never see that she's been writing about her life all along.