Her fingers tremble each time she writes when she’s at home.

The words she speaks are unknown and unthought-of.

She frequently thinks about death as if it were just another thought that entered her mind randomly.

She’s not afraid of dying. She’s only afraid of going home and pretending she’s okay.

She’s too young to know what pain is,

She’s too young to know what love is.

That’s what she’s told over and over.

But yet she feels pain striking her in the chest and puncturing her lungs each night.

The love is found and lost again. As if it was never a feeling.

She feels that good is just a word without a definition oppose to bad.

She cries and weeps over the silence that is forced to stay.

The lies that stand before her repeat.

"Home Sweet Home" is what they always say. She chuckles with a hint of sarcasm each time.

Each day that she goes home, she looks out her window, and looks up at the sky.

She closes her eyes….and whispers "Please, don’t let me wake up in the morning."

Her prayers are constantly ignored.

People worry because she draws dead people randomly. And she repeats the word death as if it were a punch line to a joke.

She smiles and laughs and tells them its nothing it’s just what came to mind. But when she puts her head facing down the tears become a sudden rush. But she blinks and looks back up so they don’t see the pain that is felt.

She learned how to see blank so no one can see the pain inside her.

She won’t dare make eye contact terrified that they might notice.

People notice the scars on her wrist and question it. She answers "I fell, long story."

She walks fast just to avoid conversation.

It’s easy for her to open up, but she fears judgment.

They tell her to be grateful, and that others have it worse. But she’s too weak to actually understand and believe.

Her smile slowly fades because she can no longer fake the pain.

There’s only one thing that haunts her. It tortures her. It’s practically killing her.

This one word describers her life. No need to discuss further.

Her life is a,

She’s told she’s a,

All she hears is a,

Her smiles are a,

the happiness she supposedly holds is a…

….lie.

And she’s the definition.