Storage bins,
We have them filed away,
And piled high,
Always kept in the back of our minds.
Full of secrets,
The homemade videos we made when we were younger,
Of the ups and downs,
But mainly the downs.
Because gravity tended to pull us,
More than anyone else,
Down,
In a state of mind,
A state of matter,
Of what matters to me and what matters to you, and what matters most.
Storage bins,
All filed away in dark corners, shadows, under beds and in closets,
Where everyone's too afraid to look in all the movies, and then when they play hero or heroine and look anyway,
The lid comes off,
And everything trapped inside busts out with talons scratching the sides deeply,
Because dead memories,
Only stay dead until you become scared of them,
After that, they have every reason to live again.
-D.
YOU ARE READING
No More Hiding
Non-FictionWhat's the point in hiding the truth? TRIGGER WARNING: -EATING DISORDERS. -DEPRESSION. -SELF-HARM. -SUICIDE. -ANXIETY. -HEARTBREAK. -ASSAULT. IF YOU FIND YOURSELF SENSITIVE OR EASILY TRIGGERED BY ANY OF THIS CONTENT, PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE. You have...
