Secrets are monsters:
They always come out
And dance all about
In a frenzy.
Like a jack-in-the-box
Or a cuckoo bird,
Once a secret is heard
There's a scar.
Willful reveals, mistakes,
Once concealed, breed a monstrous hate
That rends and cuts—
Breaks and stabs—
And kills the bonds of life
With a knife.
And it's a sharp one.
Secrets, you see
Are monsters.
They peep from closets,
From under the bed
And they always
Get inside your head.
They drive you mad
And crazily sad—
Secrets are truthfully bad.
They make you regret
What you once had
And is gone now.
Because secrets
Are beasts in a cage;
Inspiring rage
In revealance there's outrage
And death.
Secrets are monsters—
The demons of souls—
Hated and cold,
Though they quickly grow old,
Are not forgotten.
Monsters are secrets
Locked up inside,
Needing a keeper
To allow them to hide
From the world.
Secrets are monsters
That always break out
And scream and lash out
Destroying all about
In a raging, death-filled
Frenzy.