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