You ask me

                      To tell you of my heart

To bare my soul

                      And tell you all.

Well, these are not secrets,

                      They are wounds,

Wounds unbound,

                      Wounds that I have found 

A home for.

                     I have hidden them,

Sewed them up tightly,

                     Placed them in cracks

In the walls I have built

                     Around me.

I am not even sure

                    I know any more

Of their exact location.

                   But, like Pandora

I have the key to this box,

                   If I open it,

Will you, 

                 Be there to catch me?

Owain Glyn