I have been told something
that I mustn't repeat.
Secret can not contain this news
with in it's weak aluminum arms.
This one requires an iron cast,
a cement cage.
It begs for the depths of the
black erratic sea.
In me this information is sulfuric.
Poisionous lye rolling around my tongue.
I am suspended between two worlds
filled with its acrid gas.
Disbelief, as I swallow
hoping stomach acid will destroy it.
So I needn't tell a soul.
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