Behind the bedroom door
Under the bleachers
Pulling into the garage
Changing clothes
In the bathroom
In the bath
In these moments
Others can’t see
What makes you tick
What makes you free
Exposed to God's eyes alone
No one sees you
Until they've seen you at home
Your true self is not available to the naked eye
No matter how hard people might try
They'll never know the truth behind your walls
Until they come with a bulldozer and jamb them all
By bulldozer I mean truth
By truth I mean love
By love I mean someone comes in,
Sees the mess behind the door
And sits down for coffee with you anyway
There’s a veil hanging
Over everyday things
When you get home it is taken off
And you heart really sings
It may be a song of sadness and despair
Or it may be a song of gladness and care
Freedom like no other
To be who you want to be
Behind closed doors the messy goes unseen
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Author:
Leya Virago (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 3rd, 2019 19:52
- Comment from author about the poem: I guess I was thinking a lot about the character of people; including my own, where we are not always what we seem. I like to think I am fairly consistent throughout my day, but there are parts of me, crevices in my soul, and quirky little nothings that others don't see when I am by myself. I thought it was an interesting thing to write about. Read or don't; but if you do don't you dare leave without commenting!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
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