Author's Note: Just in case anyone was wondering, I didn't murder anyone.  This is fictional.  I got this idea while I was walking down the bread isle in the grocery store.  I have no idea where this idea came from or what it has to do with bread.  Thank you and enjoy.

Does murder mark you?  Is it a scar, visible for all to see?  Does it give off a stench, vile and bitter?  Does the memory of it follow you like a shadow, impossible to get away from?  Or is it like a cloak, a damper on all other less important things?

I've discovered it's more of an embarrassing family member; something you want to get rid of, but can't so you just cover it up instead. So I see everything through a veil, my veil of lies.  It's not quite a mask, just a little curtain that keeps me out of trouble.  I don't let anyone come to close, lest they see through it. 

If you're wondering who I murdered, you needn't worry, it's no one important.  Just a nosy little gnat that got in the way.  I wasn't planning on killing her, but I don't mind that it happened.  I was beginning to wonder what  I was going to do if she found out too much anyway. 

So here I stay, unseen and invisible behind my carefully woven curtain, always keeping something on me just in case someone comes near.  A kitchen knife here, a pocket knife there. For I can't let them see through my veil....  I can't let them see that I'm afraid.