Because I kept my sufferings silent: my wounds, they grew and grew
Not knowing that keeping them inside was the worst thing I could do
So I went through life pretending that things were all okay
Till something tragic happened and my walls fell down right away.
Tears that I had stored up gradually and packed away inside
Rushed out like raging waters that carried everything outside
And those who saw me weeping and uptight over things long passed.
Began to question my sanity: wondering how long things would last.
I tried to explain the happenings that unveiled the things inside
But I failed to understand them completely and so I cried and cried
To counseling I carried my brokenness where I could finally become free
From things that kept me hiding and prohibited me from being me.
For all those still outside there hiding from your secret world of the past
I suggest you don't stay there indefinitely: for secrets never last
In ways one can never plan for and in places one can never foresee
Something tragic will suddenly happen and the hidden will no longer be
It's better to take care of a wound while it's fresh and not so deep
For it becomes more and more a part of you the longer its allowed to sleep.
Don't worry about the opinionated who will say that therapy's something bad
For those who have known its healing, will tell you: having it makes you glad