Walking through the silence
I see her weary face.
She gives me a smile with no happiness,
And walks with miserable grace.

Flowers of force bloom on her face,
Etchings of pain and tears.
And yet she speaks not of it,
She bows her head in fear.

She relaxes when in company
And drinks her whiskey neat.
But when the people leave her,
She crumples at his feet.