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.