A pill: Hard to swallow.
A bullet: Short and narrow.
Shot by my brain in aim for your chest.
I promised to let it all out but my conscience chose to borrow only a part of it to my lips.
To spare you from being broken apart by my harsh honesty.
I was told that silence is the remedy when truth entails pain.
After you hear it; we won't be the same.
Oh, the truth.
It's bad enough that I don't tell it to you but what's even worse is that I refuse to tell it to myself.