She always tries to be good, she always tries to be kind. Even if nobody sees the pain she hides inside, behind the gentle eyes, the warm smile and the polite way she always holds the elevator so the nice lady from the 25th floor can hop in.
She tries. And she succeeds. And her success is so great that nobody can see that behind every kind word, every bright smile, every good gesture is a cry for help. And she cries. And she cries so loud she cannot even hear the sound of the water that falls down above her head. She cries and not a single soul can listen.
She sinks even more into the void of her own tormented soul.