They can't know,
I won't let them know.
The lilies which blossom,
emerging from the dark,
murky waters of my heart
are to be culled.
Each sinful petal burned,
the crisp ashes blown into the wind,
never to be seen again.

They wouldn't understand
the pulsing pain that drives me,
it drums in my ears constantly
silencing each rotten thought
before they bloom into something more:
something unsightly.