I'm here to warn you about a monster ,well not really a monster...more like a disease.

you see it lives under your bed but mostly it lives in your head and it sits there quietly growing with every second , until it consumes you . until every part of you is covered so the the truth bounces of you like a rubber ball .

Its victims are many and only few survive , but it leaves them with scars and scabs and aky bones. It doesn't leave until it knows that its presence will be missed . Until it knows that it presence will be missed until it knows that you will never be the same again ..until it leaves you nothing but a broken soul. how do I know this you ask?

You see most of my family has already been infected.

You can see it in their eyes. Blank stares and lying words are all that live in my house.

The disease makes my mom think it is a phase.

A changing thing, like the moon. One day I’ll be whole again.

I find myself wishing it was true.

But allowing myself to believe that, would mean allowing the disease to take me and never again will it take me.

My brother refuses to look at me when I am with my girlfriend.

He doesn’t think it’s a phase. He just thinks I’m broken and it’s his job to fix me.

to glue me back together .

he says i'm the one with the disease ,so he reads what he thinks is the cure to me ,while screaming.

I tell myself that this is not him it's the disease ,That's this is not my family.

That one day my mom will be okay and my brother will think that it's alright to be gay.

and i hope my sister does not contract it . i hope she is raised without hate in her lungs . I hope she doesn't look at me like I’m a ghost as something that once lived. Like I’m sick and twisted. Like I’ve been consumed.

I hope she never thinks that I hate her and that I hate what she believes in.

Because I don’t far from it.

I pray she doesn’t look at me like my soul is broken.

Please God don’t let her believe that I’m the one with the deadly disease.

This poem is about: 
My family
Our world


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