Dodging bullets and menacing glares,

Trying to survive behind a facade.

Every day is a struggle,

Between being who you tuly are

And disappointing your family.

The constant shame and guilt

Is always there.

Constantly being weighed down,

Every moment of every day.

Because you cannot be who you really are in front of them.

Dishonor, judgment, and self-hate:

Can there ever be an end to this?

The only refuge is to hide

Behind my curtain of continual pretending

Because I am not brave enough to show the real me.