Secret Keepers

Some of us are secret keepers,
always working to leave the world
in ignorance of our actions,
calculating closely the moment to act,
to speak, to silently stand still.
Some of us have but one secret,
dark and insidious.
Darker still are those weaving compartments,
secrets that twist and turn in deep wells.
So many secrets lead to so many more lies
until, like knotted thread,
None can tell the front from the back end.
Yet secrets have some odd agency,
though quite stagnant an idea they seem.
When kept in darkness,
like any living thing,
they rot and fester, becoming quite unseemly.
They’re poisonous to the soul
cracking wills and breaking hearts.
Yes, a will of their own they seem to have,
insisting, like any vital plant,
that truth be told and shared
just as the sun shines
on all our cares.

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