"Shhh" - Bahamas AI art
©A. Derek Catalano
The Burden of Secrets
Beneath the cloak of midnight’s veil,
Where whispers weave and shadows sail,
A secret stirs, a hidden lie—
A fragile thing that cannot die.
The walls that guard it, worn and thin,
Are cracking from the weight within.
Though buried deep, it strains to rise,
For truth, in darkness, never lies.
A glance too long, a word misplaced,
A tremor that betrays the face—
These cracks, they widen, sharp as blades,
And cut the heart in whispered shades.
The wind that sweeps the silent shore
Knows every sin, recalls each war.
It carries whispers far and wide,
No place remains for you to hide.
What’s held in shadows, kept from sight,
Will surface in the morning light.
Each lie that’s sown, each truth denied,
Will sprout like weeds you cannot hide.
The eyes of others burn too bright,
They see what’s hidden in the night.
No mask can last, no wall can stand,
Against the truth’s relentless hand.
You weave a web of careful threads,
But still it tangles, twists, and spreads.
The tighter drawn, the more you’ll fall,
For secrets are the death of all.
Beware the silence, hollow, deep,
The truths you bury while you sleep.
They stir beneath, they claw, they climb,
They will not yield to space or time.
And when the dawn ignites the skies,
The truth will rise in countless eyes.
No veil will stand, no plea will save,
For secrets walk beyond the grave.
So heed this warning, hear it well:
What’s whispered low will always swell.
For every lie that’s born in fear
Will find its voice—its echo clear.
©A. Derek Catalano/ChatGPT
