'Secrets'.

There once were things called 'secrets',
And everyone had their own,
That little bit of them was dark,
And in its right: alone.

Remember those things called 'secrets',
You wouldn't tell a soul,
Having a secret: one or two,
Was enough to make you whole.

A myth, we reckon, 'secrets',
A died-out point of view,
That secrecy has long since died,
It's never something new.

There's a fear concerning 'secrets',
Tell one, you'll tell them all,
Just let it slip to one 'true friend',
And oh, so quick you'll fall.