She lives as someone else. She keeps it all inside. She doesn't want to talk. She needs to run and hide. As herself she's shy. As their friend she's wild. With them she doesn't care. Within she is a child. She's scared of truth and light. She hides herself in dark. She lives behind her lies. She's lost all of her spark. Her life is somewhat twisted. She experiments with things. She tries to fly away from it. She thinks that she has wings. She wants to live a normal life. Though she knows not what that is. She tries to hide the hurting. Friends don't notice this. I met her once before. I asked myself, "who's she?" Now comes to me the answer. The introvert is me.