I have become an expert at the art of hiding what I feel,

of making the pain seem less than real;

of laughing when I want to cry,

of living when I'd rather die.

Of smiling when I'd rather frown,

of swimming when I'd rather drown.

But maybe I hide behind hiding itself,

never knowing how to know or feel myself.

I call it hiding but I find it is not;

for how can other see through me and find what I had once forgot?

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