"On the outside I look absolutely normal, but nobody knows my innermost Secret." I wrote this last year at writing club.
On the outside I look absolutely normal, but nobody knows my innermost secret. I keep it hidden, bottled up inside. Nobody knows, no one will, the secret that keeps me alive, that haunts my dreams, turns black to white and what once I thought wrong now becomes right. I will never share this secret.
On the outside I look completely fine, but nobody will know of the pain I feel. I won't think about the pain, the agony, ripping me apart. It hurts so much, yet I don't complain. I haven't told a soul so nobody will ever know about this secret or the pain.
On the outside I look perfectly happy, but nobody knows of the sorrow within me. I can fake a smile all day long, but nothing more. It attacks me when I slumber, when no one can hear me yell. Daggers of guilt tear though me, making me fall into an everlasting regret one that will not let me triumph over this. A sorrow so deep I'll never even show a flicker of hope for any sort of victory. I won't tell anyone my secret, the pain, or this horrible sorrow.
Nobody knows what happed one night when I took my sister out. The moon tossed soft shadows around me while I took her up the hill. Trees were spread out above us like a vast dark canopy of leaves and their branches reached for me trying in vain to catch hold of me. The moon light above us and underneath me dark moss and grass grew.
Never again would I feel the crippling pain of being haunted by my secret. I knew without a shadow of doubt I wouldn't forget this. She might. She might too feel the pain and the gray cloud of heavy despair that came with the curse. It was her turn. Slowly I took a step closer my scared sister.
Nobody knows my inner most secret, the terrible pain, and the horrible sorrow within hidden within me. Nobody knows what happed that night. No one at all.
Nobody; not even me.