Friday, February 8, 2013


They are kept hidden from the rest of the world,
Locked and kept in the doors our minds,
Nobody knows the dark-sides of your personality,
The weaknesses, struggles, we keep to our selves.
Regret takes the memories; forms them into a guilty conscience.
Why do we have secrets?
They're the only things we can keep to ourselves, Like something we own like stealing an item
But don't want to give up or admit. Instead we suffer from time to time
And slowly eat ourselves away in secrecy.

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