There she is,

Looking in the mirror,

Practicing her smile for school again.


She walks through the halls,

Pretending that everything is fine,

When she really feels,

Like she is slowly on the inside.


Day in and day out,

She acts like somebody else.

She can feel herself slipping away.


And that scares her.


She doesn't know how to stop this change.

You wouldn't believe how hard she's tried,

To break this never ending cycle,

But nothing ever works,

Except for writing poetry.


The words that drain from her head,

And form a puddle on the paper,

Helps her remember,

Who she was,

Helps her to realize,

Who she is,

Helps her to really see,

Everything that she could be.


Her name is not important,

Just know that she was stuck,

But getting these words out,

Gives her the strength she needs,

To pull herself out of the quicksand.

This poem is about: 


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