The Real Her

She walks around the place,
with a fake smile upon her face.
She looks at her wrists and her cuts are hidden,
as she knows that self harming is forbidden.

No one sees the real her,
the feelings and thoughts she has do reoccur.
Sometimes she wonders what people close to her would say,
if they knew she cries each and everyday.

Her pain goes unoticed,
no one can tell,
she looks like an angel,
but she's living through hell.

by Naomi Short

Comments (1)

A well articulated piece of poetry nicely penned with insight. Most people hide their tribulations because experience has thoughts them that hiding their problems with dignity is better than exposing them. Bottom line: No one cares. A lovely poem with good rhyme scheme. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.