She looks like a happy girl.
A kind girl.
A got-everything-she-wants-in-the-world girl.

But maybe she's a bruised girl.
A scared girl.
A scars-hidden-under-her-sleeve girl.

Maybe she spends every day
Hiding her hurt til it goes away.
But it never does,
It only grows,
As she suffers more and more relentless blows.

Maybe she waits
For someone to say (and mean it), to say:
'Are you okay?'