People ask questions about the past,
what I have done, what was done to me
to sharpen such a tongue
or harden a heart,
who finally broke me, and
in how many ways. They ask of
my nightmares, about what I don’t write.
They say, ”Tell me a secret.”
Well, I don’t have any, and that is
the bulk of the problem. 

(Source: inchesgiven)