Some may say skeletons are meant to live in closets
Others dissent from the idea grand scale
Yet there are plenty of cretins worldwide who, instead, dwell within them entirely
Not parts of them, but all of them, in a dark room they built themselves
And during the long while inside,
They become meaninglessly attached to the clothes they were given at birth
As well as hand me downs from ancestors
Not at all aware of shopping malls and the online market
That have so much more to offer
Such deluded vision perpetuates eternal naivety
And when one embraces this,
They begin to harbor hatred for what they don't even understand
If they're not in their own closet,
They're out trying to clean someone else's
As if that's their business
I don't believe it is
I don't live in a closet
I have one, but not to force victims inside and subject them to notions I value
I merely come and go as I please to it, and I make many modifications,
Leaving others to do what they will with their own
So, for these fools I speak of,
The house cleaners and closet dwellers,
I don't despise, but, in fact, hold sincere but contingent regard for them,
As I sense a possible futility in why I still care
The days are coalescing into a helpless dark, much like their closets,
And I'm beginning to grow uncertain of whether I will ever truly understand these people...
(Written on September 10,2012)
© Ricky Randall
September 10,2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem