There is a slinking rhythm

To the untold secrets

In your fragile conscience.

It’s not the time to disclose them.

You might believe you’ll feel

Better unburdened,

But the simmering pain

Is what drives you, makes you real.

Swallow your pills and wearying cries.

Whatever it takes to go on.

No one ever needs to know

What you must do to stay alive.

© 2021 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

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