Pull the curtains closed,
the show ends,
and no time to share or mend.
Behind the curtain,
discovering my true self is uncertain.
Hidden are struggles and pain,
it's easier to keep out of sight, oh dear,
rather than to explain.
They are curious, but not sincere.
They are tricky, but not worthy of trust.
Fearful of judgment I am guarded.
Once a loving warm heart, now's hardened.
So what is the rush?
Taking the easy way out,
because growing up in a split home,
it's all I have ever known.
There is no doubt,
I will keep my curtain to conceal,
at very the moment how I really feel:
spite over delight,
revenge over amends,
divorces ruin and demolish.
However, in front of the curtain reveals a floor of polish.
Gradually opening these gates,
liberty from despair awaits.
A new story, no longer weary,
for once I can now see clearly,
without these curtains in front of me.