Hiding pain

I look around, laughter and smiles look real, I search for mine, I find it fake. The sentence I say "The sky looks perfect" is a hint of my pain, but no one notices, so the happy mask returns again. Sometimes pain becomes a place, a srange place I learn to chase. It runs through bones and veins, breaks the body into pieces. And if a fire ever reaches my heart, it will find it was already burned inside.