TRAGEDIES
I am the secret you would not invite
to anything or anywhere, you try to hide
me somewhere deep in your private pockets—
denying it seemed normal but would not help it.
To be seen with me is your fear that I fear;
a beauty you run from when someone is near.
I know you love me far better than the rest,
but what are the qualities I still have not met?
What comes out your mouth comes back to you,
but what can my dramatic,
unreliable words do?
You bury a person as a secret, it will haunt you—
one too scared to deal with it,
one never had a clue.
YOU ARE READING
PETALS & THORNS
PoetryA collection of self-written poetry that summarizes the writer's month.
