"Hidden Secrets" - Bahamas AI Art
Skeletons in the Closet
They rattle when the house is still,
whispers scraping through the night.
Behind the oak doors, locked and shut,
they stir where shadows choke the light.
I hear them shift, I feel them grin,
their hollow laughter calls my name.
A chorus born of buried sins,
each syllable a hiss of blame.
I swore I'd leave them in the dark,
sealed beneath the weight of years.
But ghosts have ways of finding cracks,
of seeping through my brittle fears.
They wear the faces I forget,
the echoes of a time undone.
A broken vow, a silenced plea,
a war I lost before begun.
Their brittle fingers clutch the past,
demanding that the truth be told.
I turn away, avert my gaze,
but secrets only grow more bold.
I dressed them well in woven lies,
stitched them tight with careful hands.
Yet bones don’t bend beneath disguise,
nor bow to time’s relentless sands.
I feel their weight upon my spine,
a burden carved of marrow deep.
No matter how I slam the door,
they never let me truly sleep.
So here they stand, and here they’ll stay,
their sockets fixed in empty stare.
For closets built of shattered days
will always keep their tenants there.
