Happiness? What's that?

Hours upon hours, she stares at her face,
Always second or third best in life's lonely race.
People often stare and stab her in the back,
People seem to wonder why she always wears black.
In her eyes is sadness that can't be discribed,
No hope is left to glisten in her eyes.
Everyone ignores her as she silently screams out,
Still people walk on, ignoring her pout.
Seems no one really cares what she's all about.