postsecret
living with a constant awareness,
this self-consciousness thrives in the darkness
a secret which is never shared
always lurking and never bared
my own vestige of guilt
my own hidden sadness
perpetually destroyed yet never built.
the thing for which i must be condemned, less
or more than someone else's vice
if i can share it with a stranger
i feel relieved and no more danger
of discovery, but only acceptance without guise
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