oh, wow, it's bright out today
there's color everywhere, people shining smiles at you as if you've known each other for years
somehow, you feel home
but do you remember what it was like in the dark?
or well, what it was like being in the closet?

the closet was a cold place where i was surrounded by the same four corners and in these four corners i had very little space to be the person i am
i try to stretch out but there's not enough room so i limit myself so as i'm not a problem
i limit myself so people don't have to take the time to build a bigger closet for me
i mean, if they're happy with the way the closet is why should they change it right
why would they waste time on something that they perceive as a mistake to society

the closet was a place that made me feel alone even though i was out in a crowd
it's like i see people but i can't act pass the limits that this closet provides for me
i try to break through this closet but this closet has long been under maintenance honey
one wrong move and this wood could crumble and people will look at you as if you were a joke

the closet didn't allow me full access to opening its door, or doors if that's the kind of closet you'd perceive
i'd open the tiniest little peek, and only a few people saw me open up that tiny space
they'd approach and wonder, but they approached me differently
i knew that no matter how beat up this closet was, they came with no harm and they'd even help keep this closet in tact as long as it's my safe space for the time being
i'd tell them how much i love the closet, and they'd tell me of the life outside it

the closet was a place that i considered a home while hiding from my family who called the closet names
they hated the closet, they'd rather have nothing to do with it
but like most people, why would they waste their time on a beat up closet

the closet was a place where i hid from the girl i liked knowing that she'd never like me back
it was where i could sulk for all the times i wish i could be the one she smiled at every single day
but for now all she sees a fabricated person hidden behind a beat up closet, and not me for me

but now i'm tired of the closet, it's boring, the wood is being chipped off, my friends who understand are waiting for me
the day came when i finally decided to step out of the closet
it was a slow process but i managed to pull through it
there were people who forced me back in but there were even more people who helped me step out
and looking back at that beat up closet, i decided to break it apart myself and it was the best i've ever felt in a long time

and i'm telling you, it really is bright out today
there's color everywhere, people shining smiles at you as if you've known each other for years
this, this is home
this is what i missed in the dark
this is my safe space

Filled with so many wonders.
Mystery as to its insides:
A jack in the box ready to jump at its first chance,
A barren desert with the occasional cactus,
A whirlwind of colors blended together
A collection of identical grey, or
A small feeble fairy shielded from the world.

The closet,
A corner of the world
Protected from the daggers of reality.
The reality that so many fear
The closet,
That can easily turn its own daggers
onto its refugee.

The closet
Where the magical
rainbow-colored people,
Are surrounded by clouds.
Hugging their beautiful diverse bodies
Its warmth emitting the only comfort known.
Acting as armor for those scared of the unknown
Armor from the strikes of the evil
The strikes of the familiars
The strikes of the outsiders

The closet,
Where hiding the secrets within a soul
Is normal
Where blank pieces of paper lie,
screaming to be colored rainbow.
Screaming to walk with pride

Blank pieces of paper in secret
Protecting its true, bold and
vibrant colors
Crying to be seen
Crying to be honored

The closet,
Its clouds turning into hurricanes
Destroying everything in its path
Millions of questions,
Millions of concerns circling,
Circling into a pit of despair

The eye of the hurricane,
In a tranquil place
Lies an animated child
So small yet so strong
Hiding its flamboyant skin with dull clothes
Surrounded by chaos
And grey.
A hurricane of stress and fear
Fear of being out
Fear of being exposed
Fear of the unknown

The animated child,
Wanting to leave the secure place of a closet
Wanting to march with pride
Wanting to share its colors with the somber world

The closet,
A space where a weak small flower bud
Is waiting to blossom, waiting for its time
Waiting to spreads its soft-spoken petals
Waiting for its petals to stand with strength and poise

The closet,
where fairies,
Rainbow colored people,
Blank pieces of paper wanting to be colored rainbow,
Animated children,
And glorious flowers
Are given the space to reflect on what resides within one’s soul

The closet where
A sense of stability and security are ensured
Where true colors develop and are protected from the large erasers
wanting to keep plain colors, plain people
Where their once weak stance develops into a stance with pride and respect

Pride in their colors and flags
Pride in who they may love,
whether same, opposite, or multiple genders
Pride in what gender fits best,
whether male, female, or anywhere in-between
Pride in what pronouns truly describe their soul,
Whether it be she/her, he/him, they/them
Pride in how they love,
whether it be eros, intimate love, or agape, unconditional love
Pride in who and what they are

Pride to stand tall against those with conservative views
Pride to say that love is not confined between a man and a woman
Pride to say multiple genders exist
Pride to say *** does not always mean love
Pride to expose themselves to the true evils and malicious actions
Pride to fight for their God-given rights.
Pride to marry and to love who they want
Pride to say the closet was a space they grew out of
And learned from

The closet that gave them the confidence and strength
The closet that protected them until they were ready to
Fly  
Fly through a large city,
Fly over a field of flowers,
Or a tall forest,
Or the vast sky,
Spreading their passionate colors
Bringing life to the monotonous world

So I’m cleaning out my closet, and I find this box. It reminds me of when I was a child.
I remember this box: it’s full of photographs,
Of these beautiful landscapes and the world that surrounded them.
I can remember a time when I used to live in this closet,
When I used to take these photos out and look at them,
Wondering where these beautiful places could
Possibly be, I’d thought that they were just paintings.
When I was a child, I thought like a child; I’d been born in my closet and didn’t know
There could be anything else.
I was happy, and I had everything I thought I needed: The pictures were nice to look at, there were other boxes full of trinkets and toys, there were four closed walls, and there was even a nice-smelling carpet for me to sleep on–
The closet was my home.

I’m cleaning out my closet, and I can’t believe I actually used to live in here.
I used to think that those were clouds stuck to the ceiling, but really
They’re just spiderwebs.
The carpet didn’t smell nice or home-y, it smelled musty and *****,
And god, there was so much ***** **** in here.
Back then, as I grew, the closet didn’t. I can’t believe that I used to think I fit in here,
That I used to sleep curled up in a knot on this hard, grainy excuse for a carpet.
Back then, as I grew, my trinkets and toys started to lose their virginity,
And that box of beautiful pictures that I used to stare at, and dream of, and imagine about
Started to irritate me.
Those places weren’t real. Staring at them made me feel sick,
As if there could be beautiful places somewhere in the world that I couldn’t already see,
I’d studied every inch of my closet, my closet was the world.
The closet was alone.

I didn’t even know that there was a door to the closet until one day, it opened.

I don’t know who did it; maybe it was God, maybe it was the wind, but all I know is that
Light flooded in.
I remember standing up for the first time in years,
Slinking towards the light and out of the door to find
A bedroom, and a window, and doors that lead to new places,
And the beautiful landscapes from the photographs?
I could see them from the window of my bedroom.
They were were in my backyard, and so was the rest of the world,
It was mine for the taking.
But I became so overwhelmed by the visuals, by the brightness and realness and colors
That I shivered, closed myself back in, locked the closet door,
And then I was angry.
Why didn’t anybody come tell me?
Why didn’t anybody ever knock on my door?
Why was no one ever there to tell me there was a world? Who put me in this closet? Can anybody  hear me?
It was too much too soon and I punished myself for not knowing,
Figured being in the dark forever was better than knowing what it was like outside,
I made it twenty years without daylight,
Might as well do twenty more.

The closet was worse than ever before,
And I hated it there, I wanted out, but what could be out there?
It was safer here, dark, cold, clammy, cornered, instead of
Open, airy, vast, promising, no!—promises can be broken,
And what if there were people out there? I’d have to explain where I’d been all this time,
And then, all of a sudden,
I was tired.

With the door still closed, I sat on the floor and faced the wall.
I lost track of time. Twenty years, or until I fell asleep for good, whichever came first,
That is, until I felt the door open up behind me.
I felt the Light against my back and cowered from it,
“I just want to be alone, it’s not real, it’s not real,” I said.
I was scared, but the Light began to
Warm my skin.
I turned around to face the open doorway,
I stood upon a higher ground, and I realized that the old box of pictures
Still sat by my feet.

When I stood up, I realized: these portraits and landscapes of beauty and nature and peace,
I’ve always had these.
I’ve always known what it was like outside,
I didn’t need anybody to set me free.
All I needed was me.

I’m cleaning out my closet, and I’m glad I’m outside.
I’m glad I found my home,
And my backyard, full of wonderful places.
I no longer have to wonder where such beautiful places could be,
And I’m never going back in there.
I’m finally free.

So obsessed
She is
changed
Her Closet
Turn-on
Lover
Something
submerged_

Never full lips
sheath
dresses

Walk-in confesses
Vanderpump Rules
Just take one
ticket you mules

Being tagged
Pants Golden pocket
Price reduced
One chosen
Deep  every breath
we take in

Miss Marilyn
Road some like it hot
More to hustle
(Monroe)
Curves and wiggles
Spiky heels
Named Doe
The Skid Roe

Never make a deal
The sheik riding hood
**** lower than hell
backs
Too unveil him
Who should?

The warm sun camels
closet smells slender
Cigarettes
Never cracks
That whodunit
Walk-in
Only low backs
Sherlocked dress
Mystique to guess?
Monique
He spilled
Sinnamon latte
Exotic Tiger print
Whispers Walk-in
Hints?
Love magnetized
late
The caramel
sensuous sips

A girl best
friend
Not one
ring or
love note
Valentine email
Dressed in closet
But it wasn't mine?
Stacks of
dresses

  A+ Yes, never a  no

I believe
I will find
your vote

Coziness Closets of
many
alterations

Altered her vision
Designer maniacs
Never ticks
**** hens and clocks
   Guys under the weather
The Umbrella ladies
Eating chocolate
Being bombed
Mr. Drakes

All latex
Younger
man
Plastic
double
agents
Of Botox
Oh! Dear
Mommy
Closet case!
Can you spell
spellbound

The green envy
dress
Near her
wallflower
the wax museum
of witches
Breaking some
britches
Broomsticks
Fly Robin Fly closet
Oh! Why
So subtle the Seance
Copies in her Palace

Something rearranged
her closet
Humanity switch
Her designer
hangers
underground

She became
the closed
closet mute
Shabby chic
out of lines

Never bling
I am going
to wash
that man
out of
Ponytail

I wonder
Why? whipped
hair
My big
walk-in
closet
You're invited

The girls live in
her shoes don't
judge a closet
With all her books
Tied to his ankle

Whip cream-color
Come over
You stepped
accidentally
into her dirt
French
tulip skirt

Her walk-in closet
she calls them
on skype lips up
The Closet
always shuts up

A friend once asked me what my closet was like
I paused and looked at him
What was my closet like?
Oh it was a lovely place
Full of crushed dreams and self hate
Maybe I'll take you there sometime
What was my closet like?
It was full of people's words
People's judgement
God
Religion
Hell
Disease
People stare like there is something wrong with me
What was my closet like?
It was a jail cell
Where my individuality was suffocated by societies hands
Wrapped around my neck
Screaming at me to be normal
What was my closet like?
It was a small room in my parents house
I ran there when their fighting became unbearable
I'll just come out at a better time
What was my closet like?
It was a scary place
Like the deeps of hell
I tried to climb out
But the devil had me *******
******* by own fears
If I get out people will hate me
My friends and family will abandon me
I will have nothing
When this boy asked me what my closet was like
I wanted to punch him
As if my closet were an old friend who I hadn't seen in awhile
Like I was supposed to list detail after detail of my life inside this cage
Like it wasn't a big deal
How can you be so blind
My closet
Killed everything inside me
When I came out I was reborn
What was my closet like?
He asked
I put my hand over his mouth so he couldn't talk
That's what its like
I said

I used to just sit in the closet, and hide there.
I was scared. That society wasn't ready to accept my skin.

The closet isn't just for homosexuals.

We are all like worn out coats that are shoved into the closet when we are not good enough to be worn.
I used to just sit in the closet  with all the worn out coats and Match patterns with them, oddly even there I was the only brown one.
In my family, we are all white. Until I was born.
The first time I was called a ****** it was by one of my cousins. The words stung like a snake had bitten me on the neck. And injected more blackness into my skin, I was labeled something that I wasn't ready to accept. Her words where a cattle **** that branded me from that point on
I ran into the closet and his there. I didn't leave for seven hours, I counted the hours on my skin with bite marks, I tried to rip my skin off so that I could look like everyone else because my second grade teacher told me we all looked alike on the inside. And I just wanted to look like all the other people in my family with there straight hair and white skin.
I used to hide in the closet. Because it was so dark my skin would fade away into the darkness and my blackness dissolved in the blackness. I was accepted.  I was loved.
I used to hide in the closet.
When I stopped, I straightened my hair and continued to carve away at my own skin until I saw the whiteness I craved for so long. My skin was my closet for so long and for my entire life I was trying to get out.

There's silence in the room
There's silence in the house
There's silence in the closet
There's silence in the mouse

There's silence on the broom,
in the room,
in the house,
where the closet holds
the silence in the mouse.

There's silence in the books,
in the nooks
in the room,
in the house,
where the closet holds
the silence in the mouse.

There's silence in the photos,
in the rooms,
in the house,
where the closet holds
the silence in the mouse.

There's silence in the room
where the music used to play.
and the kids who slept inside it,
would be gone all day.
there's silence in the room
in the house
where the closet holds,
the silence in the mouse.

There's silence in the house,
where the family would walk,
and where the family,
would always want to talk.
the silence in the house
where the closet holds,
the silence in the mouse.

There's silence in the closet
where the clothes are there to sit,
and wait for someone to put them on
and have a deal of wit.
there's silence where the closet holds,
the silence in the mouse.

There's silence in the mouse,
who scurries through the walls,
and eats all the crumbs,
but no one sees at all,
the silence in the mouse.

There's silence in room,
where the music used to play,
there's silence in the house,
where it would be empty
all the day,
there's silence in the closet,
where the clothes all like to keep,
there's silence in the mouse,
who doesn't dare make a peep.

There's silence in the room,
in the house,
where the closet holds,
the silence in the mouse.

I use to be in the closet
I use to go through all these false motions
Feel all these fake emotions
I would put the straight face on
But I would always feel out of place

The closet was where I would pack away all my insecurities.
I would put them in boxes for later so I could look back at the dark memories.
And whenever I felt threaten
I would hide in the closet.

But the walls would sometimes come too closely
I would get claustrophobic
As it suffocated me slowly.

Running out of oxygen, I would pelt the door with my fists to be let out  
I would scream, beg and shout to be let out
And when I finally mustered the strength to cross the threshold
I was shoved back in
I was told that I couldn’t love him
That I should have never been
I love you but I hate your sin.
Time and Time again.

I fought as they shut the door and turned the lock
I was in the closet but this time the new me wanted to be free
The half king, Half queen me wanted some liberty.
I tore the hinges from the closet door off
I tore down the walls and pounded them into dust
And after looking at my beautiful destruction I felt justice

Because the closet is man-made invention
To keep us under control.
The story no one mentions but they know it by heart
So they stay away and not wanting any comprehension.
It’s something they use to stifle us so we won’t make a sound.
Something that will keep our feelings hidden in the background.
So it won’t mess up their “beautifully normal” foreground.

But I say no more

No more should we have to go back to the closet
To where we must feel shame
To where we must bear chains
To where we have many names
To where it gets dies, our flame

The closet must be, no more

I use to be in the closet
I use to go through all these false motions
Feel all these fake emotions
I would put the straight face on
But I would always feel out of place

The closet was where I would pack away all my insecurities.
I would put them in boxes for later so I could look back at the dark memories.
And whenever I felt threaten
I would hide in the closet
But the walls would sometimes come too closely
I would get claustrophobic
As it suffocated me slowly

Running out of oxygen, I would bang on the door to be let out  
I would scream, beg and I would shout to be let out
And when I finally mustered the strength to cross the threshold
I was shoved back in
I was told that I couldn't love him
I was told I was a sin, that I should have never been

I fought as they shut the door and turned the lock
I was in the closet but this time The new me wanted to be free
I tore the hinges from the closet door off
I tore down the walls and pounded them into dust
And after looking at my beautiful destruction I felt justice

Because the closet is man-made invention
To keep us under control
It’s like a shock collar; you cross the line that separates you get a lashin’
Its heavy rods and big metal ***** to weigh us down
It’s something they use to stifle us so we won’t make a sound
But I say no more

No more should I have to go back to the closet
To where I must feel shame
To where I must bear chains
The closet must not be, no more

Where I sit, in a closet full of greys, which aren’t greys,
But colours of the rainbow, gleaming with a diffused glow,
I am not colour blind, but she was, the day I entered her closet,
But now she isn’t, for I have seen her feel the colours,
And sometimes you need not see them, to feel them,
You just have to wear them and see the world outside
through that gleaming diffused glow,
with a butterfly or two in your gut;
you’ll realize that the world is a closet too, that needs to be opened by the might of the strayed,
because the world is colour blind,
just like how she was when I entered her closet.
So, while I sit in here, I wonder what my role is, for I have built a castle in one corner,
just above the drawer where she hides her deepest secrets;
Maybe I am here to show her the light, so that the greys can become the colours they deserve to be
and then her closet can become the most colourful of them all,
and I can watch her be herself, not just in our closet,
but also to the world outside,
For I fell in love with that woman, who is not afraid to be herself, for she can carry any colour with poise, elegance and freedom.
That’s what the world should see and learn, from the most beautiful woman, that I share my closet with.

When I look back and think about my closet
Dark
Small
Prison
I think of all my fears cramped in one small space
Just waiting to break free and be released
I think of all the hateful words said
All the looks
All the whispers
Thinking that my closet was my safe haven
Only to realize that my closet was slowly killing any hope of being myself
Realizing that if I stayed in there
I would be setting an example
That being real is too scary
That being 100% is not worth it
But stepping out showed freedom
Freedom to think how I wanted
Freedom to dress how I wanted
Freedom to hold her hand
Freedom to say "I love this girl"
My closet was the scariest place
Somewhere that told me to stay
Stepping out meant being vulnerable
Closets aren't about vulnerability
They are about restrictions
Alienation
My closet was my biggest enemy
My hater
A total threat
My actions speak louder than my closets scariest images in my head
Don't think that your closet is there to help you
Protect you
Break free
And be who you want to be

She wears t-shirts of the Beatles

And she loves the Rolling Stones

She wakes up to David Bowie

And she dreams of the Ramones

She goes out to dance clubs nightly

Till her ear drums both get blown

But, she has a deep dark secret

That her friends will never know



At night when she is by herself

When the room is nice and dark

She slips beneath the covers

With Johann Sebastian Bach

She's a closet classic ******

And her name is Amber Clark

She just loves orchestral music

The rock and roll is just a lark

Her friends think something classical

Is something for your folks

They cannot play an instrument

They cannot read the notes

They think that  chamber music is

What people play on boats

But she has a deep dark secret

She loves the stuff that Chopin wrote

At night when she is by herself

And her friends have gotten ******

She slips beneath the covers

And she listens to some Liszt

She listens to it many times

In case there's things she's missed

She's a closet classic ******

She has "Baroque" upon her wrist

She listens to the music

That her friends like to be cool

If she told them what she listens to

They'd laugh her out of school

So, when they go out  clubbing

She will join them as a rule

But...ah that deep dark secret

This girl is no ones fool

She listens to Beethoven

And she knows each piece by heart

She knows where one bar ends

And another one will start

She can play most every instrument

And she knows most every part

She's a classic closet ******

But she still knows Boyce and Hart

She has cds in her library

And most sit there untouched

When her friends are gone they don't get played

She doesn't like them much

She would rather hear a symphony

By a composter who was Dutch

But there's that deep dark secret

And she won't use it a crutch

At night when she is warm in bed

She listens to Mozart

She needs a little Nacht Musique

To open up her heart

It's a piece that sets her mind a blaze

It hits her like a dart

She's a closet classic ******

And she keeps her worlds apart

By day she sings Bruce Springsteen

At night she listens to

Composers that her friends don't know

They're so old they're new

So she keeps her world a secret

For she knows what they would do

If they found she didn't know

Where were you in sixty two

But at night she is a ******

And she listens to Mozart

She needs that piece of music

To shoot an arrow through her heart

Eine Kleine Nachmusic

She conducts every part

She's our Closet Classic ******

shhh.....the song's about to start...