Not once was I told the secret of life,
the tribulations and decisions,
the crossroads and winding hills
that seclude me from inspiring heartaches.
The cave we all have
hidden in our interior decorations.
Forget the couches, the loveseats,
the paintings in our memory,
the gourmet diners we skillfully babbled,
but the dark, mellow area,
the wet, cold corner of our deepest closet,
our humble hole we veil so many eyes to see.
That mess we gather under the matress!
Skeletons, skulls, worm-inflicted flesh
even shrines to the dead...
The sips of wine every night,
the rollercoasters we forbid to share,
our graveyards ... our births.
The raging storms that drench our thoughts,
innebriate our souls.
Broken China pieces ...
Reactions ... conclusions ...
finding our secret laberynths
behind the blessed waterfall of celestial waters,
an ocean's shore of purple depths; a sobbing mother
who attempts to save an olympic swimmer from the tide.
Silence was offered as I asked the popular inquiries
about life...the secret to forget it all,
to get over the madness and stress of our daily lives.
The word was inscripted in the nonattainable handbook of success
yet torture seems to be my passion,
ongoing lessons to die with a smile
for it was I!
not my shelves full of books
nor my gold framed mirrors on the wall
that found the secret in life, not greed or power,
but character ... a formation of who we are,
who we have become and in that hideaway,
that dark, fearfull abyss
I found who I was ...
the secret to destiny and life.

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