We all have secrets that we wish to keep but let me take a moment of your time to tell you mine.
My skeletons are simple, they are the ***** laundry that piles all the way up to the top where I wish my esteem could be.
I barely have the energy to get out of bed, take a shower, eat, something.
I can hardly go about my day to day casual living, so the pile just keeps on building.
I push my skeletons away when company is coming, and only then am I aware of how bad it has gotten.
It's not just my skeletons that are gathering dust and withering away, no.
It is I, sitting there all full of decay in the middle of the day, wasting time being sad rather than happy.
It is I, becoming one with my skeletons, my fragile ribs poking through my paling skin.
It is I, laying in my bed wishing it were a coffin, as my laundry sits untouched in my closet,
Because we all know that's where skeletons like to hide.
Sitting inside your very flesh waiting for you to rot and die so they can finally be found and come alive.