Not Yet
I have beautiful hair.
I have a huge family that smiles.
We always smile.
I have an image.
Filled with tears, blood, pain.
All about my "happy" family.
We look happy.
We sound happy.
We fake happy.
I
Fake
Happy.
I hate our inner battles
Whether with
Depression
Self Hate
Anger.
I want it to end.
The lies are all too much.
There are no true friends to turn to.
All will stab me in the back
with more lies and rumors.
Trust is something I have yet
to find.
Trust is inexistent.
Death is the better choice...
Right?
No, Death is never the choice.
Not yet at least...
This poem is about:
Me
My family