She holds her composure better than me,

And yet she's falling apart.



I can see a bit of purple around her eye,

where her foundation didn't cover.

She's always in long sleeves,

to cover the bumps and the scars.



She's in so much pain, yet she smiles.

She's got a round bump under her shirt,

But it isn't from a boyfriend or an act of passion.



She used to be called anorexic,

when the reality was, she didn't have food to

feed herself, nor the child she is being forced to carry.



She is missing chunks of her long blonde hair.

She only has three outfits.

Her only pair of shoes are plagued with tears and holes.



Her blue jeans are covered in crimson stains,

beyond her façade she's screaming.



And yet, despite all of these things she's enduring;



She just puts on a big smile,

And pretends everything is okay.