Poem about locked-away secrets.
| I used to be better at holding them back,
The noises and voices alive in my head.
Forty-eight years spent blocking the door,
But they keep coming back, wanting more and then more.
Time is my nemesis as I grow older.
I weaken, they strengthen, are bolder and bolder.
Louder and prouder, they force their way in.
Forty-eight years --- now I think they may win.