I wouldn't say that the words “be
honest” are a minefield.
I can't say I've met a mine with a
nuclear yield.
I will tell you more than most men, and
you will call me brave,
But there's a matching unsaid
conversation behind everything I say,
Living long unsaid, in shame-caverns,
which were slowly carved by fear
That if I show you all my mind, you
won't want to be here.
I don't think that you're a bad friend
or a traitor or a whore.
It's just that no one I've been honest
with is with me anymore.
No comments:
Post a Comment