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The pain sits there waiting,
Heavy in her heart as she begins to open her eyes.
She is trying so hard to move, but each pulse just pumps it through her veins;
this infection in her blood.
Slowly, she gathers the strength to rise.
The evidence washes down the drain as she scrubs off the weakness.
She gazes deeply at her reflection in the mirror,
And just as every day before, her smile gets painted on,
Just right.
Stepping outside, she inhales her happiness,
Making sure to exhale every possible trace of misery.
Laughter, kind words, a “genuine” smile;
She shares all the light she’s been able to muster,
And chains down the darkness that is left in its place.
Returning to her room, she removes the war paint.
Another battle has been won.
As she pulls the covers close to her face,
She closes her tear-filled eyes.
And if you listen closely, you just might hear her whispered prayers,
That maybe this, will finally be the night her suffering ends.
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