The Locked Closet
Oh! How I miss the world of naivety!
A time of childlike fortunes,
Of lollipops and shoelaces,
Where obscene language and bodies
Were secrets locked in the closet of adulthood.
A lock which has been picked by generations,
Generations of children
Whose brains have been rotted by the images stolen,
Stolen from the locked closet.
Oh! How I dread the locked closet!
The shelves filled with shredded dreams
And hangers with hooked skin-suites of children
The shields that have been torn from our bodies,
Only to bare our fragile meat to the daggers from the closet.
Each bubble of childish ideas,
Of Barbie, Ken, Hotwheels, and Dinosaurs,
Popped by the pin-pricks of cackling laughter
Of the evils of that locked closet.
Oh! How my nakedness scares me!
How my bones brake and shatter,
Piercing the lost child,
Who is laying at my feet.
My mouth opens and cackles,
While my mind trembles in fear,
For it is still that child at my feet,
Whose life is slowly spilling across the pavement,
Avoiding my feet,
For the life of a child is repulsed by the mutilated thing that now stands above it.
And as the moon sets,
The life of my once childish self closes it's eyes,
And lets out a quaking breath,
Saying to me,
"You alone have brought this upon me,
For that lock that was picked,
Was the one thing keeping me alive,
And the evil inside of you caged.
You have now forsaken yourself,
For that closet is the evils of the world,
The evils that you have swallowed into yourself,
And that now control you."
And with the truth spilled,
My childhood dies,
And the tortures of the world now settle upon me.
Weighing me down,
Until one day,
It, too, lets out that shuddering breath,
And travels below to the depths of forsakenness,
To slowly melt until the end of eternity.