That thought in your head, Concealed within the walls, That can't be written or read, Seeking a door, it shades the halls. Like chalk shedding its existence, Rubbing itself off everywhere, Eroding away, it leaves its trace, Bleeding an unforgettable memoir. That stains what was once pristine, Nothing is spared from its dust, Till every thought changes what it means, And nothing means what it must. Infecting everything that was clean, Its traces in every thought revealed, This epidemic could've been contained, A single release that could've healed. So let it out, just let it live, For small marks are easily erased, Unlike bloodied halls, Whose stains no effort can efface.
