Rayne

I smile and laugh wildly, having fun with my friends.
They don't know what huge lie I have to pretend.
To my friends, I'm the funny girl who's so full of life.
They don't know how many times I'd held a bloody knife.
To them, I'm the girl who loves to strut down the street.
They don't know that I feel so incomplete.
To my friends, my laughter can spread.
They don't know that inside, my happiness is dead.
To my friends, my smile can brightened up their day.
They don't know I've shut my feelings away.
I'm locked in a prison, one I cannot escape,
A place my soul is repeatedly raped.
In the prison, there is no love, there is no spark.
I'm all alone, tired, desperate, and left in the dark.
In the dark, there is a monster waiting painfully for the kill.
The danger sends out a terrifying chill.
I've faced the monster before, so I know its disguise.
My spirit breaks down further, silently releasing its cries.
I knows it's no one's fault; I'm the one to blame,
Because I'm the only one who's causing myself this pain.

Smartest, hottest, most popular girl
She flashes a smile that would make your vision swirl
Silky brown hair down to her waist
Everyone she meets, she will embrace
Such a perfect girl with a warm, kind heart
No one knows the secrets that tear her apart

Perfect tan skin that never ceases to amuse
Choosing clothes that will hide the bruises
Strutting down the halls with unbeatable grace
No one knows the torture she has to face
She watched the clock with a sad, broken face
As soon someone approaches, the smile is back in place

When she comes home, it is impossible to smile
He breaks her body and spirit in such a violent style
She arrives home, desperately hoping he wasn't there
As he calls her from his room, her eyes fills with despair
Her eyes start watering, knowing what is to come
Just imagining the bloody mess she was to become

Her body shaking, she heads up the stairs
Hoping God will answer her prayers
She starts stripping her clothes along the way
Again, not knowing if it was her last day
She reaches his room, not daring to look in his eyes
Silently crying, as he runs his hands up her thighs

He lays her down and the painful sting returns
No matter how many times it happens, it still burns
It continues for hours, then it comes to an end
She wakes up the next morning, sore, ready to pretend   
That she is perfect, that she is okay
Putting on makeup and shutting the pain away

She fixes herself and looks in the mirror
"That's not me," the thought becomes clearer
Her trademark smile is in perfect place
The sadness is blocked away from her face
She feels she could collapse under the strain
She heads out the door, repeating the cycle again