There is a smile on her face but does that mean anything?
she has tears in her eyes every time i see her when there should be twinkle.
she shuffles her feet along slowly, instead of skipping to a merry beat.
she crosses her arms tightly, they aren't bravely by her side.
her hairs always down, covering her face, she should be boasting of her beauty.
long sleeved shirts and pants are worn even in summer, to hide those scars that only remind.
they remind her of him. the bruises-he put on her body, the cuts-she did herself, and the broken heart is from every guy that dared to change what they like.
this girl doesn't know that her pain shows, she doesn't know that anyone can see.
nor do i, i don't know who takes notice but myself.
you probably wonder who i am, you wonder why i know.
I've witnessed her slamming doors, Ive seen blood on her pocket knife.
those tears in her eyes is all i see.
i am her mother.
she does so much to hide what would hurt me most, but no child can hide this from their mother, mothers know too much.
but one day, maybe a years gone by, she came out of her room in a mini skirt and singlet.
no scars were on her arms or legs.
mothers suspect too much...
