She… 

She may sound jolly, her laughter lighting up the room,
And she may wear happiness like perfume.
But deep within, she’s hollow and alone—
A quiet ache in a heart no one has ever known.

When the crowd drifts away and the noise starts to fade,
Her tears fall freely, no longer afraid.
The mask she wore begins to slip,
As night embraces her in its silent grip.

Her strength—her armor—is all she’s ever had,
The very force that hides the times she’s sad.
Admired as an alpha, fearless and bold,
Yet her truth remains a story untold.

Because showing her pain feels like giving in,
She locks it away, buries it deep within.
To feel is a risk she can’t afford to take,
For the world might shatter what little she can fake.

So she wears her crown with elegance and grace,
Even if sorrow shadows her face.
For hiding her wounds is how she survives,
In a world that praises strength, but never asks why she strives.