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?