As I lie here in my bed no one knows what Iâ??m doing. No one knows that my poem is broken because my life is. No one knows that beneath my perpetual smile I am in pain. And know one cares. Because today we are alone in this world and it is hard to find someone who will listen to you. And itâ??s even harder when youâ??re different, when at heart youâ??re a child and a witch and an artist, and no one understands artists.