her primrose paisley printed pea coat  
cannot hide the battle scars
her tattered scarf blows in the wind
indicative of the never ending war she endures

she half smiles as her wild red locks become entangled
letting me know that she is okay
she at least wants me to believe she is
we both know it is just make believe though

how sad it must be
to pretend to be happy
how much self-control must be maintained
as to not erupt into a combination of rage and tears at any given point

a better question though
is how long can she carry on this way?