The Key

I write in secret 

about my secrets 

In a manner to most so vague.

So the people I've known 

Won't see how tangled I've grown 

And treat me as a plague.

I think so much and say so little 

I feel so much and hide that I'm brittle 

Old habits still left to shed.

15 years, a life without meaning, 

remove from life all that's demeaning, 

I will leave nothing left unsaid. 

I will find the lost pieces and when 

I put myself together again, 

I will leave the cracks open for all to see. 

Because things not spoken 

caused me to be broken 

and the act of openness is the key.