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by boohat
Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1068983
An unknown secret that the writer will not tell.
A Secret

I'll sip societies
rejection cup with
unabashed delight,
For when Iíve left this
Hypocrites fold
I'll still be in the right.
My windows barred and blackened.
My address, long since lost.
I'll have back my integrity
from where Chance had it tossed.
But, until that day, I'll smile
and pay
homage to my friends.
And on my cracked and bleeding knees
Iíll try to make amends.
It is with brave futility
I'll tell my secret desire.
For I know the effects of
such disclosure
reduces me to mire.
I say with boldest certainty
of my doomed fate,
and in full possession of
I acknowledge ones right to hate.
And, though my determination is
I am still given to pause.
Thinking of all the condemnations
to be heaped without just cause.
I know such a crime is quite repulsive,
compared to the common mans way.
On second thought,
perhaps my soul
can wait 'til another day.

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1068983