Shame

Please only whisper,
when you speak my name.
For the pain is to unbearable,
from the pleasures of shame.

Oh the web we weave,
is like scattered glass.
The sharp edges of pain
are entwined in our past.

The pleasures we seek,
no consequences we thought.
Will reap years of torment,
and shame for us all.

Shame has colors
of varying degrees.
From black to white,
and no color for peace.