And the secrets sure drove her mad
But she carried them to her grave
Even as they haunted her soul
And ate at the corners of her peace
Even though they were the noose
Around her delicate throat
Even as she woke up screaming
Soundlessly to their whispers
Even though they scared her demons
Away till she wished them back
Even if she lost them in the day
In the night they’d find her again
And today she lies
In a little corner in a faraway land
And the secrets sure drove her mad
But she carried them to her grave.
About the Creator
Shivani Vani
I'm a 20 year old psychology student, currently living in the UK, originally from India. Love reading, write poetry and care about mental health issues. Also cats.
Find me on Instagram and Mirakee @literarycanvaspainting!
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Message Me Afterwards
>That was a bad idea. I thought you knew… >Oh, the pathos! I don’t really know you as well as I should. In fact, I may not know the real you at all. That essential, sparkling you that you only reveal to a select few. Had I been paying more attention to the stories you are so fond of telling, in which you are invariably author, narrator and protagonist, I would not have been so foolish as to set you up on a blind date. After all, no friend has ever done anything of the kind for another. That’s preposterous. What is a friend, really?
By D. J. Reddall5 days ago in Fiction
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