Skeletons In My Closet

Every closet has those - haunting sockets, death white bones, hollow smiles.. Skeletons in the closet. Mine too, bigger ones and a few smaller, calmly taunting with each creak of open door.. Most times I am lost in their deep dark glare I become them! Me - one of those ghastly skeletons With crooked bones, where once was flesh and life I am one with their cult, oddly mysterious and unfathomably evil. At times I am haunted, their glare cutting through my lifeline, Sucking away my calm, filling emptiness and a weird chill in its place At times like those, I get goosebumps And I shut the closet and my eyes and heart Refusing to neither be the haunted nor the one to haunt When those doors close... I know, the scars they hold are not for my haunting, but are reminders of long lost path.. I am not defined by my skeletons in my closet and neither should you.