Closeted Head Space

​Never said I wasn’t a mess

Some people take a second guess

Thinking that they’ve opened the closet

To my head space

But they just became buried
They become hurried

Running through the gates of my mind

Guarded by thousands of sparks

Waiting to fly off the handle
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find thrill

Through the bones of others chills

Up and down, I’m walking into

Forests of other people’s minds

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