Silence filled her eyes as she sat alone, not physically alone, but mentally. She had enough people to talk to, they wouldn't listen though. She thrusted nobody anymore. Even her smile didn't seem to matter, rarely showed.

She hoped to hope. She didn't need to hope, hope was gone forever. But she pretended to still have hope, not knowing when this lie was coming to an end.

Black lies, which she told them with no single sign, habits. The more silent she got the more she screamed inside. Screaming in hope someone would catch up, but now her silence didn't matter. They didn't care.

Every time they pulled her out of the circle, they stepped aside for her, but she was too afraid. She didn't need them that bad. It hurts.

She had so much to say, about how she didn't want this life, how she cut and hurt herself, how she'd go crazy by the thoughts of crowds, how she wanted a hug, a genuine hug, a real one. But she couldn't. They'd never care.

She wanted someone to be proud of her, because she couldn't get herself to. Her punishments were from curse words to assaults and blood.

She'd lost her voice to tell them, she had given up. The days went by, getting her closer to where she belonged, afterlife.

She wanted the people around her getting that this wasn't a mental illness, whatsoever something you could fix with medication and pills.

She wanted someone to get her pain, to understand her without her saying a word or faking a worse smile than she normally did.

Dozing off to the birds, she stared out of the window, she was scarred.