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Web of Secrecy
by Nancy Faulkner
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Strangled and ensnared in this horrid web of shadowed secrecy,
it sometimes seems I cannot find the strength to stay alive.
As I spin to free myself, the complicated mesh winds tighter
round my isolated efforts to untangle and survive.
Fitfully, I bump the slight remains of another frightened child
whose mute cocoon is motionless, and fragile spirit broken;
I struggle to escape the same doomed silent plight
that descends from all the evil secrets
hiding quiet and unspoken.
Why is it others do not see the convoluted clinging web
when they chance upon my failing frail existence?
Why don't they see the mask I wear to guise the pain inside,
or feel the desperation spun from harm's
continual persistence?
As sunlight hits the window just beyond the wicked web,
my reflection emanates, fractured through the shattered light;
A distorted splintered image emerging from the fleeting rays
casts shadows on my soul and drives the secret
deeper in the night.
Ashamed, I turn my eyes away; am I afraid that I might see myself
and feel again that I have caused this ceaseless wicked scene?
If they knew about the unseen secrets lurking in the dark,
would they see me as the one who instigates,
the one who is obscene?
Should I not be blameless, as the butterfly enticed into a lacy veil,
whose flawless colors nevermore will waltz and play so peacefully?
Unwitting and naive, could the carefree innocent have known
that a cunning predator had cast the evil web deceitfully?
Can you lift your eyes and be not blinded by the captivating filigree?
Do you hear my muffled plea for rescue
from this spinning snare of secrecy?
Will you eradicate the clever dark tarantula who subjugates my life,
and, extend your hand to save me from this unjust, vile indecency?
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