There are secrets that we never even give voice to,
Like squishing them inside ourselves will make them go away.
But, they don't need lyrics to have their own voice
-even instrumental pieces carry feeling-
And the music escapes when I open my mouth.
It tumbles out like a discordant symphony,
And I can't take it back.
I try, but I can't,
So, I stumble over the wreckage my silence has wrought,
Still denying the secret all the time.

*Maybe you know, now.
Regardless, consider this my confession.