The pages are blank, the music is soft, and her face is emotionless. Her eyes are unfaded, her mind is blank. She has nothing to say but has something to write. Her hands and fingers are at work on the keyboard, typing her mind and thoughts as her eyes show nothing of what she writes. Her words scream silent yelps, while her voice shouts silent cries. She looks upon her page of what she has written and her past is not clear. She doesn't like looking at it, rereading it, nor showing it off. She is afraid that, like her, her words on a blank page will scare others off. She wants to be surrounded by people, but at the same times wants to be alone. All she does is stare at her blank page, the music soft, and her face is emotionless until she can't write anymore.