This won’t work. I can’t open up to you
But then I don’t really want to
I’m so tired of being afraid they’ll see
All the dark inky parts of me
Bats fly out through unzipped skin
Never to fly back in again
Squeaky clean becomes the closet
Now what shall we deposit?
But then again what’s left of me?
All the things I still can’t see
So just for a while I’ll try to pretend
For soon enough we come to the end…