Wardrobe-Skeletons

The perils of wardrobe skeletons holding keys to abandoned souls. And hearts covered with lesions rattling in self-confining ASBOs. Be a self-abusive, shadowy iceberg? That prohibits all-natural warmth. Whatever germinates into a stillbirth? A trust that's eventually abhorred. Healing can only come from within. Absorbing it doesn't happen easily. neither does the strength to forgive Who wants to act reasonably? It's skeletons that should suffer an eternity to loiter—unloved, locked in their airless, lifeless coffins Conduit ice flows, bumping abruptly.