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

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