I wonder, sometimes, how the world can have so many secrets.

Perhaps, I would be happier if I was ignorant. If you, and everyone else, did not come, whispering into my ear...
           fears, lies, the wrongs of the past, your deepest insecurities

Perhaps it is my face that makes you - all of you - trust me.

Or perhaps it is the way I blend easily in the background, the way I speak up only rarely.

I know enough secrets for a life time; plenty enough to drown in.
Some of them, granted, learned from behind a door, listening, but
most freely given.

You say you can trust me, that's nice.
'Fact, it's enough to make me smile.

I think I'll still keep the secrets to myself, though, even if I return the sentiment. And yeah, I do.

Sometimes, see, it's less of a burden not to know, than to see everything so clearly, and be so utterly helpless...

i'll still keep all the secrets, though, don't you worry - - exhausted of it though I maybe, i still know how to keep my mouth shut,  *how to help out when i can...