Empty is when I'm down

my heart, my mind

My soul wonders around

and I am stuck

with the pain of watching

with the sorrow of a widow

cause my married self has departured

and I am stuck

I am paralized

Secretive secrets

remain hidden to me

but I don't even want 

to find out about them

I don't care

I posses my own 

secretive secrets

that I probably

won't ever share

And the pile will grow

and grow, and grow

until they crumble

on my head 

on my mind

on my self

Or they will blow up

like a swollen balloon

splattering everything

and they'll be 

splattered secrets