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The tale of a man and the horrible secret he holds.
Also, the truth, and consequence, of all our little secrets in our lawns.


Submitted:Apr 9, 2007    Reads: 143    Comments: 2    Likes: 1   


Voices screaming in my skull.
Boiling over, shouting out.
Exploding, violent on the dawn.
Finding, always a secret route.

Who can know the deed I've done.
The tears, the blood, the pain?
All they've seen is the smiles,
The holding hands in the rain.

I can never go back now.
The task is done. Its gone.
How they never would suspect
The secret in my lawn.

No one's seen the bloody shovel.
The blood, the bag, the rope.
But everynight, my secret lives.
It drowns all thoughts of hope.

In my window, she comes so soft.
My secret held so tight.
And whispers death into my ear.
And so I fill with fright.

This thought, indeed this curse,
Which my darling has begun.
Can only seem to deccimate,
With the rising of the sun.

But even know, as I speak to you,
My secret takes my breath.
This curse, this sickness overcomes.
And the only cure is Death.





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