She supposes she's happy
like when she's with her friends,
throwing her head back and covering her mouth,
as she shakes with laughter
at a joke someone just made
but then day turns to night
and her carefree grin turns into an un-explain-able sadness,
etched on her face like a tattoo,
and she lays in bed,
thinking about all the things she wishes she could say,
all the things she's too afraid to admit,
even with only pen and paper and mind
it's night like this when she realizes;
she is many things,
she is happy and sad,
outgoing and shy,
rambunctious and quiet
but mostly,
she's just... empty
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