I put on this act as I go down the hallways appearing carefree.
People speak behind my back as if I don't even exist.
They call me a whore and a slut, and frankly, I can't take it any more.
They don't even know who I am, so I won't let them witness my collapse.
They are blind to the emotions I try to conceal.
Do they understand how painful it is?
They are blind to what is building up inside.
Do they understand it's bad form to gossip?
So many things are unspoken.
There are various causes for why I feel dead within.
Why would he harm me in this way?
What made God pick my family?
I stumble as I move through the hallways, aware that I'm about to drop something.
I stutter and exclaim, "The worst is occurring; I can't do this; I have to stand tall."