I know something you do not.

I see things you cannot.

I hear things you should not.

Shall I tell you a secret?

A cryptic missive of days gone by?

Should I whisper?

Whisper of things too oft left un-sound?

I wish I could

But maybe,

Perhaps not.

T ‘is better left on lips sealed shut.

Closed tight in young sepulchre.

T ‘is better buried under dirt and grime.

Coffin of darkness for secrets as dark as mine.

Nails of doubt

Boards of fear

Decaying satin laced with shame

Hidden under the grave

Of this innocent face.

Should I dig a little deeper?

Uproot the skeletons of the past?

The stories of history,

That mock my tainted mind?

Should I display,

The rotting yellow bones?

Or perhaps,

We can glance at the maggots;

The little friends that play,

Where vibrant eyes once lay.

I’ll tell you one secret.

Take a searching glance in the darkness.

Let us peek at the headstones,

Glowing dingy in the moon’s shadow.

I’ll read you what it says,

“Here lieth the bones, of innocents once living.”

Kadeen Nichelle Oksana Waldron

Friday, May 11, 2012. 18:52 hrs