A terrible secret is born of deception,
it's made to keep truth from coming to light.
It can be short or last for a lifetime,
but once it's revealed it can cause hurt and strife.
The longer it lives, and truth is denied,
the worse it becomes, a burden to bear.
Those who must keep it will suffer the most,
it can cause heartache and deepest despair.
The longer it lives, the bigger the lie,
it grows and festers, a wound that won't heal.
A terrible secret can cause ruination,
it has no conscience, likewise, it can't feel.
Why give life to something so awful,
why not let truthfulness find its own way?
Perhaps it's regret and the shame of it all,
that keeps the truth from the clear light of day.
A terrible secret, mom and dad chose to keep,
caused mom to drink, tempered joy in her life.
The life of this secret went on for years,
its edges were sharp, they cut her like a knife.
The secret then died many years after them,
when it came to light and the whole truth was known,
shocked and dismayed by what I learned,
at the same time intrigued, no longer alone.
A long-lost brother, a child left behind,
in wartime England, by my mom and dad.
He finally found me, the secret then died,
although, all the wasted years, made me sad.
The secret was buried, finally laid to rest,
born of deception and hidden for years.
The life of a terrible secret was done,
so glad it died, for it, I'll shed no tears.
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