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Skeletons

A poem about the bones hiding in the dark

Credit: Pixabay

It is inevitable to not make mistakes in this life. Everyone holds something that they regret but consistently follows them at some point. There is no use in pretending to be perfect, because the skeletons that follow us are a constant reminder of how we do some kind of wrong, even if we do not mean it.

I have skeletons

weighing me down

 

I know everyone I pass in these streets

see them glaring inside my rusted clutch

because they have identical skeletons

shadowing them everyday, too

 

So how dare they look at mine

like they are some kind of strange

experiment

 

Haven’t you concocted your own, too?

 

Just look at them

they are blooming right beneath your underlashes

they find joy in making a spectacle of you

because they know you walk around with

guilt building in the most delicate spot in your

stomach

 

Those crisp bloodless skeletons magnify all corruption

buried within the depths of your soles —

interconnected, trapped in your soul

 

Like a prison

except no one has possesses the key

an eternal hell lies ahead

 

I know about those shadows

blasphemous ghouls lurking around after dusk

bringing out the wolves whom chant bad omens

over

 

foreign earth

moons

constellations

 

It is these skeletons that

hide in your luggage

garments

 

the infamous closet awaiting to blow

your facade in the back of your room.

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Written by Kay

I am a 19 year old writer who loves piercings and challenging the status quo.