Regretful
Skeletons hang from hangers
In some sort of insane order
Dangling delicately downward
Facing their own directions
In a closet home to them all
Where boxes flood the floor
Full of past forgotten memory
Sealed without air holes
As a top shelf weighs heavily
Stacks higher to the ceiling
With culminating misfits
As permanent room to hoard
Untouched and forever unseen
Because the bulb is fused
So the light remains off
When the switch is on
But the door stays open
Unable to close shut
The closet stretches out
Into the main room
A stench bothers to linger
While the closet remains
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