Isolation

Behind the smiles and laughter,
The sheer happiness displayed,
Behind all that layer of generosity,
The respect presented,
Conceals a loneliness and timidity in her façade,
All but shy, she still puts up that fake,
That false sense of being,
In the fifteen years of her life.
Although happy,
Although gratified,
Although caring, and although loving,
She knows she can’t find where she belongs,
And that only serves the isolation she knows is deep down
A true meaning behind her existence.

In case she wonders,
In case she hopes,
In case she wishes,
In case she even dares,
She’ll in the end be separated from those
That is found as her best friend.
And even then, despite immunity to keep a forever companion,
She’ll discontentedly put up her sham of a pretense,
Because she’ll know she doesn’t belong,
Can’t search for that place where she’ll fit right in,
Since she’s all but a 15-year-old girl,
Too young to run,
Too young to live alone,
Too young to hide,
Too frightened to scurry from the protection
Of family and home
Too frightened to be by herself
Of incapability and anxiety to aid oneself
Too frightened to bury
From her parents and the possibility of painful punishments if found.
But most of all,
Too fearful of the hurt if she were to take her own life
By knives, fire, cuts, pain, suffocation,
But not from an instant demise
Much like a shot or slip of a carnage drug.

If she can’t have any of that,
Hence she’ll just live,
However sullen
However alone
However afraid
However positive or negative,
Because this is life,
And that’s what isolation is,
If she just tried and add new meaning to the word,
By demanding out of the present as much as she could.