The Father’s Secrets - Poem by HollieAnne Coles
You want to know my passion? Music, I suppose.
Hiding a life behind thrashing speakers.
A child wrapping their fears beneath a musty blanket,
Healing a heart with slow swaying rhythm.
A mother wiping her stress with product, covered cloth,
Hushing away your secrets with famous, confused words.
A Father concealing reddened eyes with shades, black as night.
The silence, so loud,
The music, the blanket, the cloth,
But shades, black as night,
Can only be worn 8 hours a day.
Tell me this...
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