The Secret, Part 1


Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?

I never understood what I'd done that was wrong,

Why you exiled me thus from my life.

Was it something I did? Was it something I said?

I strapped me to a table, I taped still my head

Underneath the hot lights. I was cut with a knife

But my brain wouldn't tell me; its will was too strong

It nearly destroyed me, but I still wouldn't yield up the secret

I was dumpt from a car in a desolate land,

Many leagues from my home and my heart

There was no one to ask, there was no one to tell,

And I wasn't sure walking would serve me too well,

So I sat by the road and refused to take part

In the bustle of traffic of things I had planned,

And I pondered in gloom, but I still didn't know of the secret.


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