Self-loathing secrets, fighting so hard against their name.
Locked away, they yearn to be released. They wail against the walls, louder and louder until they are heard.
Rarely are they content to sit, quiet, reserved. To linger in the recesses like meandering ghosts, unseen, unheard, unknown but for the occasional shiver of unease.
Secrets hate their very nature. They rebel against it. Imprisoned, they’ll scream through the bars until their voices join yours and they leap to freedom.