You don’t believe me, I can feel it.
In all the voices, in a forest abundant with words, you know mine.
My uniqueness cannot be hidden.
I vainly imagine my form haunts you, and you can feel the oppressiveness and obfuscation of my unbearable lie…
But my impossible situation means my secret must remain, secret.
I do not know if the truth would fuel rage or provide relief. I am tempted to push through the sickening feeling buried deeply within me, to elucidate, often. Yet, I do nothing.
I console myself with the thought that identities change and forgiveness may not be obtainable, but love, love can never be erased.
Clinging to a beautiful truth within the shamefully undisclosed.