The sadness, the madness, the pain,
All build up-like air in a balloon-inside of her,
Until she can no longer hold it in and like a balloon: bursts.
The tears flow.
Her throat aches from holding the tears back for so long.
She has learned to muffle her sobs, blowing her nose in silence.
She only cries under cover of darkness.
Being weak scares her.
Does crying mean she's weak?
Suddenly, she asleep.
The next day, it's the same thing:
Wake up, dress, go to school.
Wave, smile, laugh.
Her actions mask her pain; no one sees her tear streaked face.
And at night, the cycle starts over.