If

Façade

She's put together and strong,
You say, "jump," she asks "how high?"
She's hardly ever done malevolent wrong,
She has a sparkle in her eye.

She talks to many, but she speaks to few.
She exists to have existed, nothing more.
She hardly ever looks blue.
She smiles as soon as she steps outside her door.

No one suspects a façade,
They expect less. A being rotten to the core.
No one imagines a charade,
They expect more. A bigger mess.

There's no winning,
Not as people examine her visage and form.
Her world is spinning,
Nothing can make her feel warm.

Behind that door she takes off her mask.
She does what she can,
She finishes her task.
At last, she lifts her own ban.

She falls to the floor,
Shielded by that door.
The footsteps outside make her tense.
She detects with her developed third sense.
Her safe place is always under siege, by all,
Sounds shake through the floor and flow through the wall,
The noise bites at her, tears at her, worries her very much,
Her hand ready to put on the mask and her other and the doorknob touch.
But that's most of the time,
It's not a crime,
But now there is no sound.
No feet pound.

And that's when,
With no further delay...

She cries.

She cries because she's sad,
Because she is mad,
Because she isn't glad.
And for no other reason.

She's alone.
Because she doesn't trust or trouble anyone.

Compared to the open person who lets emotion impair with business,
Who's the more pure soul?

She cries for the sake of happiness.
Happy moments are much brighter,
When there's darkness to compare them to.

But she isn't thinking that now.
No she just wants to wallow.