Middle of Two Mirrors

No One Does

She was staring at the wall,
Sitting in the empty hall,
Her silence is echoed,
Her name being shouted outside the door.

She's crying, she's depressed,
Her hands tied by the society's ideal image,
She's craving for love,
Concern is not what she needs,
Now she's searching for reasons to breathe.

She tried to be good, the world is a traitor,
She tried to be bad, but the world is worse,
She wants to shout but there's no one to hear,
She wants to talk, but no one's here.

She met new people, felt a new beginning,
And now she's insecure, not knowing how to deal with it.
She feels pain, hatred, disgust, anger,
She's stressed, and they call her thespian.

She's not scared, but afraid,
She prefers dying just to live a real life,
They're calling out on her, saying they know,
But she knows they can't feel it, no one does.

She fakes her laugh at random jests,
She puts up a smile when someone asks if everything's okay,
It's hard to believe in what she says,
Because there's some hidden truth in whatever she says.

They say that they can feel her,
They say they know her,
They say they can help her,
But dear, they don't, no one does.

Every time she cries for help,
They are present, just to show their face,
She wants to reach out to them,
But they slip out before she catches them.

When she says she's depressed,
They mock her and say she doesn't know actual depression,
She smiles to herself, as she knows the feeling,
She knows what it's like to be depressed, no one does.

She hates lies as well as liars,
She says silly things just to entertain herself,
She acts childish just to stay out of pain,
She hides the truth to keep others from pain.

She yells, she screams,
She wants their help,
But she's not good at showing,
She's not good at expressing,
They can't understand,
They don't, no one does.

You'll call her a depressed soul,
And being depressed, you'll call it her fault.
You'll blame her for being sad and sober,
And you'll fake a concern, telling her to get over.

You ask her the reason,
She can't speak because she can't explain what she feels,
No one feels what she feels,
No you don't, no one does.

She wears her favourite dress,
Every time she's depressed,
She looks more than beautiful,
She knows it, and that makes her day.

She knows she's so pretty,
Pretty enough to make people hurt her,
She loses her mind for those whom she loves,
That makes her sad, that makes her depressed.

So she closes all the doors,
Those doors through which you see her heart,
She traps herself in a room,
Where her emotions can be seen only by her.

She stays quiet, in the corner, in her own world,
She doesn't speak, but it's her eyes that speak the truth,
She doesn't want to talk, as no one would try to help,
Knowing everything she's going through,
They don't care, still don't, no one does.