They would turn a whisper into a shout.

A phrase streching for miles.

I'd tell truth to be revealed

Healing would never come...

The truth sets only those free who confess.

I, of the confession am in bars.

I'd like to bury my secret and words with him.

Speaking only for someone to listen is rare.

I'd tell a story to the air, and it seems

it would catch wind;

traveling through the sky like a banner.

Speaking to lift my darkness, and then thrown into spotlight.

No.

I'd rather stay quiet,

tape my mouth shut as he did to me,

than to have it be ripped off in front of the world.

Quiet.