The People in the Closet

I grew up where doors had no knobs,
And rooms had no doors,
And houses had no locks,
To keep the monsters out.

So when my friends ran away,
And never peeked under the bed,
I had tea parties,
With the voices in my head.

Mommy took my hand,
Told me not to worry,
That the people in the closet,
Were only real in stories.

But when I tried to forget them,
They gave me button eyes,
A house that had everything,
But couldn’t give back my life.

This poem is about: 
Me

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