Count the Wolves and We'll Sleep Tonight
I live in a house where
all the doors are closed
they hide away the secrets
that can’t ever be told.
I live behind these doors
hidden away, no one knows
what goes on within my head;
or the monsters the closet stows.
One by one, the lights go out,
but the darkness cannot hide
I walk past closed doors
that monsters hide behind.
They shriek at the door,
it shakes in the frame
fumbling with the handle
wondering how they became
the ghost that moans
and the monster that leers,
trapped behind the doors
to cover up our fears.
Their hands reach out
in that space underneath
clawed hands, fumbling,
hear them gnash their teeth.
I look down in the dark
the closed doors line the hall
wonder how we’ve become
the secrets, the lies, the fall.
And these day dreams fill my head
though the hour reads late
I walk light so no one awakes
Aeolus knocks at the gate.
But, others hear what they wish
so even if I were to scream
they’d only hear everything else
thinking it a bad dream.
For we are masters of pretending
spending our lives shutting doors
hiding away our secrets too big
to fit in dresser drawers.
I can’t sleep with all their howling
so I’m left to wander alone the hallway
and pray I do not fall victim.
But old locks and frames so easily betray
me to the monster who is persistent
and the doors they all crumble.
Unleashed I must face what lies beyond
the madness that they mumble.
I cannot hide from their truths
the grotesque and the beauty.
We’ve made monsters of our secrets
and they hold us to this cruelty.
Forced to hide behind locks
I live in this house suppressed by sadness
victim to their bite, I suffer secret’s sorrow
only to end up contemplating madness.
Copyright © Rhia Madison Thomer | Year Posted 2011
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