No notoriety,
a complete and utter lack of fame,
six graves by the side of the road
hardly even remembered by name.
There’s no remembrance in the shadows,
moss and leaves plastered on your decaying name,
there’s no glory in secrecy,
though it’s what the best partake,
taking on an oath of silence even death can never break.
Always living in the shadows while the others
rise to fame,
always fading in the background
while the others take the stage.
Donating your life to the cause and
never again seeing the true light of day.
Years of anxiety, the floor how it creaks,
the house how it settles,
the foundation how it cracks under the weight,
weight of the world, of the pain, of the danger,
losing yourself for the cause.
Secrecy, bleeding you dry until you’re blank as a slate,
blank as the name on your plain hidden grave.
Overlooked and under-appreciated,
rotting away in a complete lack of fame,
forgotten in time like your memory and name.
Secrecy, the best way to play the game,
one may find success, but you’ll never find fame.