The things we cannot say become the lies that eat away at what we have, what we want, and who we are.

The fear that we must hide grows stronger inside feeding on life, killing hope, strangling love.

A silent, killing rage is kept within a cage biding its time, waiting for chance, destroying all good.

A love afraid to show, for if they know, there is pain; there is loss; there is despair.

The things we cannot say define our way; words our misdirection; they require correction; cloaking our dismay.