Oh, house on the hill,
Be the protective keeper,
Of the skeletons in my closet.
Hold them close
And keep them warm,
Within your tight grasp.
I see too many futures,
Ruined by my remnants,
Remains like bones,
Hung up — locked away.
My past up on a hanger,
Forever looming above,
It stumbles forward
Chasing down the present.
So I'll lock it away,
Hanged with a rope,
Carefully woven from denial.
The closet door encases,
Closed like opportunities unsnared.
Oh, house on the hill,
Be the silent prison guard,
Of the skeletons haunting,
My soul.
Aug 7, 2025
Aug 7, 2025 at 11:42 PM UTC
Oh, house on the hill,
Be the protective keeper,
Of the skeletons in my closet.
Hold them close
And keep them warm,
Within your tight grasp.
I see too many futures,
Ruined by my remnants,
Remains like bones,
Hung up — locked away.
My past up on a hanger,
Forever looming above,
It stumbles forward
Chasing down the present.
So I'll lock it away,
Hanged with a rope,
Carefully woven from denial.
The closet door encases,
Closed like opportunities unsnared.
Oh, house on the hill,
Be the silent prison guard,
Of the skeletons haunting,
My soul.
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