She cries herself to sleep, Nearly everynight. There is no peace for her, For she is at constant war. War with her past, War with herself. She thinks everynight, "What if I tried harder?" But she always knows the answer. If she tried harder, Things would be different. She might be happier. She might not. But no one cares, About the negative consequences. Only what could be. She wants her friends back, She wants her life back. But that isn't happening. She goes to school with a mask on, Hiding all her fears, All her tears. It works, too. No one sees through it. Not even her best friend. She feels weighed down by her lies, By her fake smiles. Her fake laughs. She has the weight of the world on her shoulders. The weight of her world. She writes to distract herself. She creates far away lands, Where the only crime is not believing. Not believing that one was worth it. Not believing in magic, In miracles. She writes about herself, Going on adventures, With beams of hope like Peter Pan. She always loved that story, It still is her favorite. Peter Pan was alone, Right up until he wasn't. She wished that magic was real, That she could steal a wish from a genie in a lamp. She writes, And writes, And writes. But she cannot fight off The demons swarming inside. She is me.