She starts a day with a smile,
but she doesn't know how to end it
without a cry.
She moves gracefully
with every step that shouts confidence.
But deep within her, she is someone
who cannot think of any way
of how this life should end.
She knows her capabilites of acting
as if nothing is happening
in her fragile heart and all,
but the scars of the past haunted her life
as well as her troubled soul.
She is someone
who chooses to stay and let go,
a walking contradiction
like a friend or a foe.
No one knows the real her.
No one. Even her.
To every people she's around with,
she's someone, a friend, they can be with.
To herself, she is someone
who is better without anyone at all,
and yes I think that's horrid.
To anyone she can talk to,
she is just a girl who lived.
But to someone like her,
she just existed,
nothing more, nothing less.
But for me—
she is the girl who lived,
the girl who loved,
and the girl who will forever wonder
whether she deserved everything
she can and cannot have.
She may be just the girl who lived,
but she is the girl who should happily live.
The bliss, the smiles, the good things she hid,
are just the things that she is better with.