To think that we all lead lives of discretion.
Secrets that you yourself have lost in the enfoldings of absent words.
Secrets that have been stripped of language that relay them.
Secrets that disconnect you from the people you love.
Secrets that pattern your lies.
Secrets that displace you from being the person you want to be.
How many of us are really unknown?
How many of us live lives that are disengaged from our daily paths?
How many of us spend our days suppressing conscience?
And how many of us read this and pretend we remain undisturbed?
Pretending you have the rightful audacity to doubt my reference to you;
Because it takes one to know one.
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