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.
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