Arms wrapped around a golden bowl filled with secrets, darkness too dark to cover. Nothing but doubt remains of others' perceptions, as such heavy secrets are held tight within the heart. The golden bowl is a shield, so that the darkness won’t start to decay the heart. But I’m afraid it’s too late. For those who want to glance upon the darkness, you all may now, for the golden bowl has spilled. There’s no one to hold and wrap it close to their chest, so no one may see within. All the secrets and all the darkness have decayed them, made a rotten heart of a pure person. Now the thousands of eyes upon them see a rotten person, and the one who held such putrid secrets is ashamed of their heart.
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