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Confessions

This isn't a poem, but a rap I wrote a while back.

They say you have to let the skeletons from your closet
If you ever want to be able to move on.
But how can I muster the strength
To admit to the things that I’ve done?
And the things that I’ve won, gone through.
Hiding in the dark, get up and run.
Run forest, run! Or they just might catch up
And rip you back down, straight to the floor
Begging for more, screaming your name
Muscles torn and sore, bleeding.
While your cries fade into the darkness
Tears flow with none to catch
A cackle erupting from the lips
Of the beast that conforms you, standing
Right before you.
And all you can do is stare,
Stare in utter fright
On this darkened night.
For you there isn’t light
No where to go, no where left to run
As your skeletons come
Grabbing you one by one, with bony hands
Ripping the flesh from your paling skin
Right where you land
Making you confess every sin
Until there’s none left
And the grief rips through you
But you know you deserve every word,
No matter how hard, even if absurd.
Theres no running now, forest, you’ve run out of time
As the bells of the dead chime
Your name in decaying rhyme
They’ve come for you and now they’ve got you,
You and your confessions.

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