Holding in
What is so precious and dear
But yet still
What none, could bare to hear
Withering away slowly
With the constant batter
If what was inside wasn't so precious
I wouldn't matter.
Only certain people
Have the means
To open me up
And see what remains.
Sooner or later
I will wither away
And replaced with anew
Upon
That day.
And thus, the cycle repeats
And I find myself new
No matter how spiteful I am
I must protect
Must hold true.
For I am here to hold your secrets away
I'll always be here for you
To guard the secrets 'till a reighter day,
And of secrets, there are few.
This poem is a conceit written for my Honors English III class. I hope you enjoy. -T.R.
