Dirty Little Secret

I remember the good things
When they used to be exciting
When they had a spark
Now things seem more jaded
Like a dirty poorly kept secret
One we are not supposed to talk about
Fearful of the barbed tongues
Creatively stifled and bound
We keep ourselves from expression
But I remember, I remember
The good things and how they were
How they should be allowed to be
But for the selfish demands of others
The politics of the world govern
And we live almost fearful
While the good things remain
That dirty poorly kept secret
We are never supposed to talk about

poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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