A Box Full Of Secrets
No one in town knew his real name,
but everyone called him Skeet.
He only worked when needing money
and that's how we chanced to meet.
He lived in a shack just out of town
and at night he was usually drunk.
Sometimes, I would visit taking him food
to find him passed out on his bunk.
If you asked him questions about his past
he would answer them all with lies.
If pressed really hard, it bothered him,
tears would well up in his eyes.
I was the one that found him that night
hung on a rope by his bed.
He left me a letter taped to a box
and I cried at what it said.
Telling me, I had been a good friend,
said he just couldn’t live anymore.
This box held the answers to questions
of the life he had known before.
I arranged to have a service for Skeet
and only two people were there.
The box he left me, I never did open,
just laid it beside him with care.
Each time I started to open Skeets’ box,
came memories of tears in his eyes.
Those secrets of his were all he owned,
I would not let him tell them goodbye.
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