I sit inside my bedroom,
Come out I would not dare,
I'm just fine sitting in here,
To avoid the benign stares.
Sometimes I move to the closet,
For my bedroom's not that safe,
I can lock myself in it,
And avoid any dreadful chafe.
Why I like myself in here,
I know not why,
For there may be an explanation;
But what I hold dear,
I cannot tell,
For there are dreadful incantations.
Why I sit in here is quite obvious,
If you did mean to ask;
I have a horrid secret
That distracts you from your task.
I hide inside my closet
To keep the world away;
I do not want anyone seeing me,
Not even the very next day.
You wonder what my secret is,
For I can tell it from your face;
But I cannot tell you,
For you need to know your place.
I have a secret,
A horrid secret,
That I am so ashamed;
I hide inside my closet
So that I'm not renamed.
My secret is a horrid one,
And it covers all like me;
I dare not say what it is,
Even over a cup of tea.
Don't ask me what my secret is,
For all you'll do is laugh,
I do not want any prejudice,
And I don't want to be called GAF.
So I will tell you only this,
It's a matter of attraction,
That is what my secret is,
Don't let it be a distraction.
No matter what you try,
I'm not coming out of this closet;
I am better inside here,
With my pillow and my locket.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem