source: gettyimages.com
It amazes me
Your expression
When you strut about
Like you own the dunghill
The dunghill
Is where men need to go
Where they need to clear out their lives
When they need to get rid of the old
Oh yes, they need you
They need you for such things nonetheless
Great mistress of the night
You are the lover and husband of our dark habits
The mother of the monsters growing inside us
The nurse of the festering sores
That mock our daytime puritan act
You keep them decaying
So we never stop needing you
For such things nonetheless
You give meaning to our addictions
You give us shame to carry like babies
And what terrible nannies we make
Sooner or later when the babies drop
And the skeletons you hid for us in the wardrobe fall out
You are the one we run to
All we have become we owe to you
When our life stories are told
In the secret cinemas
To fellow decadents like us
They are never complete without you
The mark you have given us
This mark of corruption
The dirty stinking clothes you stacked up for us
You are very important to us
You walk about proudly
In this dunghill
Where all you are
Is the keeper of dirt
You own us
But
What then happens
When we wake from our slumber
And start washing our clothes
When we take our wounds to a doctor
When we clear out our closets
When your power over us is taken away
And we do not bow or cower
Before you in devoted slavery
When we forever stop making that booty call
And actually start loving the light
When we stop hiding away in the darkness
Afraid to be seen for how we really look
When we finally begin
Feeling so clean and free
Freedom from you
Freedom from ourselves
What will you do
When we finally come clean?
I Feel Shadows 