Are you not yet weary
Of masking pain with painted smiles?
Has all your heart grown brittle from
This needless march of miles?
The burden that you’re clutching close
Too close for light to reach
May whisper sweet tones softly,
Yet swells the sucking leech.
So when at last you’ve shattered,
At rest yet weary still,
Know the sorrow shall not kill you
But the secret surely will.