Secret

Secret

Blood stained sheets, hidden pain
And a secret masked in the silent basket of shame, a peeking pink wrapper 
Petal soft 
Because she must be demure, not a lioness but a mouse
A secret that must be shadowed 
So as not to unsettle the lion as he sleeps. Unaware of her constant roar, drowned out by his obnoxious snores
The secret, instructed only to emerge when safe, when it’s blindingly bright
The secret that our society relies on to be reborn and reborn and reborn again
But what a shame 
The shame of it 

And across the ocean where a girl lay in agony, clothes as torn as her heart 
The colourless dense cloud of longing
The dark night that doesn’t care for her, whilst she yearns to be anything but
masked

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