Sometimes
I suppose I'm happy
like when I'm with my friends,
throwing my head back and covering my mouth
as I shake with laughter
at a joke someone just made
But then day turns to night
and my carefree grin turns into an unexplainable sadness,
etched on my face like a tattoo.
And I lay in bed,
thinking about all the things I wish I could say--
all the things I'm afraid to admit.
Even with only pen and paper and mind
It's night like these I realize.
I am many things.
I'm happy and sad,
outgoing and shy,
rambunctious and quiet
but mostly,
I am just empty.
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