Monsters in closet.

Skeletons are in closet,
And coffins are empty.
People have sockets for faces,
And eyes look back in the head.
Veins no longer run beneath skin
and the heart turns green from red.
People look pale,
With no colours adorning the face.
And the monster that thrives
Slowly in their thoughts,
Smiles with lips twisted
In a mosaic of emotions,
Colours and hatred.
Born out of rage
Nurtured in the fire of shame.
The monster
Oh! The green eye’d monster,
That is present here
In this moment.
He thrives in skeletons
That you so beautifully,
Have adorned in your closed closets.
So before the lock is broken,
Lay down the bones
Clean them,
Nourish them,
And make sure to dig a grave
So deep, so hollow, so shallow
That in that labyrinth
Of darkness,
The skeletons are buried forever.
Remember to fill the hole
With lies so concretely woven,
And stories cemented truly
That not even you can find
A loophole to bring the bones back.
Go check your skeletons ,
Born out of the coloured demon
If they have truly,
Broken down into fragments 
That can be laid,
And cleansed,
and sworn into secrecy.
Because once a skeleton is found,
Remember! No one will listen
To your tales of devastation.
Struggling with their own bones,
They will make you go down
In fear of being found,
With the charge of murder,
That they too have committed
Each day.

©krishnatre

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