The Sickenss

The feeling is physical
As the seed forms inside
Its roots grabbing hold
Of all that you hide

It pulls down your heart
It weighs on your mind
It exposes the secrets
They’re trying to find

It gnaws at your conscience
Planning escape
You bind it and hold it
But it only reshapes

You know it will free you
If you free it first
But to you the discovery
Will be so much worse

So you hold the sickness
As it turns your soul black
There is no rethinking
There’s no going back.