The truth is given, plain and straight,
But it’s dismissed, shoved off the plate.
A quiet hope says, “Maybe one day,”
But letting go wouldn’t matter anyway.
The urge to share, to trust, feels thin,
Fearing secrets might become whispers again.
This kind of person, when backs are turned,
Spreads every flaw, while bridges are burned.
Whispers of Struggle 
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