Skull Trap

Sometimes I think I know exactly where my fears stem from.

Where the Skeletons in my closet live. The ones I locked away deep, deep down in my subconscious.

But alas, they knock.

I can hear their boney fingers scraping at the door. Scratching against the grain to be let out. Their knuckles cracking on the wood.

Still, I do what I can to cover it up. Drown out the sound with music and people and writing and reading.

I try to move forward. To move on. Change closets as often as I can.

But they’re still there.

Knocking. Scratching. Clawing.

I know that answering them is out of the question. Facing them won’t do anything but let them in. And it took so long to lock that door. It took so much of me to do that. To be safe.

Its maddening though.
The scratching like gritted teeth. The knocking like a head on a floorboard.

Every now and then, I think they’re gone and that the coast is clear.

I let my guard down to rest and relax. Even for a second.

And just as I feel comfortable, just as I feel safe.

Knock. Knock. In the back of my mind.

You know, it’s funny. I always thought I locked them away. Locked them in. Caged them like the beasts they are.

But I’m starting to think that I didn’t lock them in, I just locked them out.

I’m the one locked in. I’m the beast.
Trapped in a prison of my own making.

Surrounded by the skeletons I tried so hard to hide away.

I just want to be left alone. I just want to be free

I just want the knocking to stop.