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Secrets

The secrets you keep,
Are finally put to bed,
But when you least expect it,
Their awake and ready to be fed.

You feed them and feed them,
Until their heart's content,
But they still eat at you,
Without your consent.

They'll leave you there,
Nothing but an empty shell,
Soon you'll find,
You don't have a soul to sell.

Secrets aren't good,
For the heart or the soul,
They leave you rotting,
That's their goal.



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