A secret is told and then its gone.
No longer a secret but a whore.
Now dwelling on the lips of all.
Passed around the room like a pro.
Lingering on the ears of strangers.
When all the story’s told and corrupted.
With every tidbit torn and ripped apart
to suit the teller and not the listener.
Facts cast aside and forgotten.
All that’s left at the scene are carcases
of the truth that’s now departed.
Why did you tell it?
Why did you kill it?
Why couldn’t you let it be?
Why did you speak on your heart,
tell of your love.
Now you have none.
You should’ve just let it live.
Leave it as a whisper in your heart.