She was happy
Wore on her face, a beautiful smile
That shone like a crystal, clear
I was not

There used to be a feeble attempt
Within me, sorrows made a pile
And I stretched my lips, an effort queer!
 She was friendly
Outgoing and extrovert

Always available on high spirits
I was alone
Under shades of loneliness, no shoulder to lean
An open wound, unbearable hurt
Which ever allowed light near it

 She was pretty
Dressed and well-versed
An angel with light wings
I was gloomy
Pondered always, why this and why me

In the sea of grief, half-immersed
This self-inflicted guilt stings

She was an epitome
People looked up to and admired
Perfection seemed adorning her entire
I was a sad dome

Looked up to her and envied
Whole heap efforts and I could never be alike
 And yet, I adore her
She did her job, correctly
She hid me, perfectly
My mask.