The words will spill,
A river to the distant shore.
They'll ask the reason for your gloom,
And why your heart is sore.
Fingers will point,
To dried-up blooms of yesterday.
Eyes will glance,
At years now flown away.
Bracelets, whispers of the past,
Will be mocked in their cruel decree.
Trembling hands, a target cast,
Their barbed words for all to see.
They are cruel, those people,
Each word a sharpened dart.
They are cruel,
And break your heart.
In casual talk, they'll weave
The threads of memories you hold so dear.
Do not let their words deceive,
Do not let their shadows appear.
For in your face, the signs will show,
The story they yearn to know.
No matter what,
Ask them no questions, no.
No matter what,
Let the secrets go.
Speak not of me,
Or share my name,
For the words released,
Will ignite the flame.
And the words will spill,
A river to the distant shore.
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