I show my sister my poems she says their beautiful art, but that they paint a picture that lacks color and are a little to dark. I know and i wish, i could offer a positive story to tell. But all these poems are written from my heart, and lord knows that's where all my pain dwells. Everything I've been told. Everything I've seen and everything I've felt. I hate to admit this, but i am slowly losing interest in life. And to be perfectly honest i need someone, i need help. For now i will keep it to myself, i don't need my family worrying about my mental health. I'll fake a smile, a laugh, a giggle, a tear. Until lord decides to take me , and i meet death.