These are not my secrets to tell,
what happens in the night
the demons that you fight
the lines we've drawn between wrong and right.
But I've told your stories, everyone.
I've told your stories until you've become
only a character within them: a son,
a lover, a convict on the run.
I'm the victim, the hero, the damsel
in distress. I'm in love, in pain, ad
nauseum, again. I've tried to quell
the sad songs and rain. I've tried to be sane.
But you remain the same.
In the darkness, your shadow shines.
You might read these lines and think,
"Does she want to be my shrink?" and
you may think, "It's too late
and I will continue to ignore the signs
and I will be the one who pines
for moments to be that never became
While you remain the same.