Some things must be unspoken
At least until I'm dead
Or else I shall be broken
At least, within my head;
But none of them are hidden
Or really hard to see
It's just that I, unbidden,
Would know them silently.
My sins and my misgivings
Are such as I would keep
From earning public livings
Lest I should start to weep.
Not from some horror there
But from a sense of care.
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