My soul holds secrets, like the sky holds constellations.
Pulsing through my veins are the darkest whispers of the sins that I keep lodged down,
Just dripping its poison down my throat,
As my gag reflex slowly desensitizes itself,
Clogged by the great fear it shares with my lips,
Fear like a shadow that hangs around me under the horizons of the painted afternoon skies,
Fear of the fatal judgement of the general population,
As they point their fingers that are like barrels of loaded pistols,
Ready to shoot me for my sins.