What is it that flows through my mind? The stories that come and worlds I find.
The secrets I hold within my heart, objects and horrors of a world gone dark.
Should I share them with others here? Or keep them in my heart held dear.
Let them fester and decay, for who would like them anyway?
Who would wish to read my words, and feel them deeply like cruel burns?
Who would wish to know its thoughts, and pick through the damage that life has wrought?
Very few it seems to me, would wish for more than to let it be.
All these thoughts within my head, make my heart so heavy with dread. Sometimes they make me feel dead.
RedRavenPoems 
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