My Closet



Derivations,explanations, frustrations, fright.
As in the closet of my mind they quietly sit,
the right side never seems to be right
while the left side has nothing left in it.
The closet is left with no space for long lost parts of mine.
The hangers lie burdened with reasons plenty.
The suffocation seeps outside,
tightening its grip all around my identity.
The drawers of knowledge broken,
the handles of persistence rusted.
The countless answers never spoken,
the questions never trusted.
Creep into the corners of the closet
remain hidden for a while
till I learn to repair my closet
piece by piece taking my own sweet time.
The old parts of me have left the space as stranger in me remained.
The mind seems mindless as termites of doubt fail to eat away the pain.
In the paint that has been chipped off, the faith needs to be regained.
It has been my saviour surviving many a seasons of the rain.

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