You think about it all the time,
But never have you said
The weight you carry in your heart,
The words within your head —
But in the morning, hard and gray,
You’ve known these secret pains
Then covered up the traces,
All the bruises and the stains.
To all the world you’ve shown a face
You’ve painted on for show,
But that’s become habitual;
Now, everywhere you go,
You just display the sunlight.
You’re a beacon mid the rains,
And no one sees the leakage,
Or the bleeding, or the stains.
It doesn’t matter anyway.
You know that’s how you think —
And when you seem on edge, I know
You’re really on the brink —
Why is it that you won’t come clean?
There really is no knowing,
But maybe you’ll see hope to know
Your stains at last