Fear of Exposure

"Hmm, I wrote this early this year, I believe. It was one of the worse times. I have changed so much (:"

We could tell them a story,
We could sing them a song,
We could pray that they’d listen,
That they’d known all along,
We could open our hearts,
We could break down and cry,
We could write them a letter.
But we’ll silently die.
For we are but stories,
Written ourself,
In our own language,
Kept closed on a shelf;
And if we exposed,
Our weak paper lives,
They’d be easy to burn,
And we couldn’t survive.